


Forgiven

by h0neybeebear



Series: Unbroken [4]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Angst, Breaking Up & Making Up, Dom/sub, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Role Reversal, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-05-30 17:54:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15101939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h0neybeebear/pseuds/h0neybeebear
Summary: I trust her. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t, but maybe for the first time I don’t want to be. She’s never punished me for something I didn’t do before...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic follows the events of Star Struck Victims (S17E16). For the purposes of the story Olivia's conversation with Mike does not happen directly after her conversation with Amanda but will happen later within the fic (ie I was too lazy to come up with a reason for Amanda to be in such deep shit so I manipulated the timeline of the episode instead)

_Amanda_

God knows I trust her judgment. I've trusted her with my body countless times and my heart a dozen others. She is my safe place, my rock upon which I crash like the ever rolling sea. No matter how much I batter her, she is steady and strong. No matter how we struggle, she remains soft.

I trust her. I wouldn't be here if I didn't, but maybe for the first time I don't want to be.

I approach her apartment building, the key biting into my palm like tiny razors, my heart beating shallowly in my chest. My stomach has been turning all evening ever since she pulled me into her office, and reamed me for not only my undercover mission on Panko and D'Amico, but also, to my shock and horror, for the leaked video footage.

I thought she would trust me, take my word as truth, when I said I didn't release the damning evidence. I reeled in shock when she glared over the desk at me, quivering in righteous anger as she pelted me with her burning disappointment. I can still hear her frustrated exclamations in my mind, piercing into my heart like jagged knives.

I had, perhaps, already known that I would be taking a punishment tonight for going behind her back, but I hadn't expected to be silenced and disbelieved. I don't know what to tell her. I swore to god that I didn't leak the tape, but her stiff posture and guarded gaze belied little faith in me. Now, I can only imagine the lashing I will receive for not only one, but two offences.

Coming to stand in front of the building, I stare up at it's imposing edifice. Typically, I would be tripping over myself to get inside, no matter the reason, but I can hardly bring myself to take another step. She's never punished me for something I didn't do before.

Tears prick at my eyes as I try to bolster my strength, and I squeeze my lids tightly shut. I know she won't judge me for crying. If anything, she encourages every release of emotion that I can give her, but I don't want to cry for her tonight. Inside, my heart is aching, the weight of her disregard crushing my chest. I've gone through several bouts of anger already, followed by an outburst of tears once I was inside the confines of my own home, and I feel the circle coming back around again.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and my stomach twists at the sound. Sniffing hard, I blink back tears, and pull out the device. I can see her name in the preview of the message on the blackened screen, and below it three simple words: _Come in please._

I glance up quickly towards the windows facing the street, but in the darkness, it's hard to glimpse which one she's standing in.

I wish I could have but a few more moments to prepare myself for what is to come, but as always, she doesn't let me drag my feet on the way to her door.

Ducking my head, I force my feet to move forward towards the gate safeguarding her building. My fingers are cold and quivering despite the warm temperature as I punch in the code. The gate creaks open in front of me, and I heave a trembling breath as I step over the threshold.

Once I'm inside the building, I walk slowly towards the elevator and press the button for her floor. Minutes seem to pass as I wait for the doors to open, and I clutch my phone tighter in my hand, biting hard at my lip as I wait. I can feel another rush of tears rising into my throat, and I struggle not to let it break free. If I am to make one last plea with her, I can't appear desperate.

_Ding!_

I startle at the noise of the elevator reaching the ground floor although I have been waiting for it. Glancing up, I'm thankful to see that no one has ridden down, no prying eyes to pierce through my fragile facade.

Stepping inside, I stab the button for the correct floor and step back. Grasping the railing, I lean against the wall and try to breathe evenly as the doors close, and the elevator shifts in a sickening motion. My stomach rolls with the swaying, and I close my eyes, clenching my teeth against nausea. As the elevator chugs upward, I cling to the last few moments of freedom before it comes to a shuddering halt.

I open my eyes, slowly, as the doors yawn open in front of me, and I nearly crumble at the simple sight of the hallway ahead of me. The thought of never even stepping out onto this floor crosses my mind. I even imagine making it down to the street once more and running until I find a cab….but I know it would be useless. I would only be putting off the inevitable, adding another transgression for which she must correct me.

Finally, I manage to uncurl my fingers from the railing and force myself out of the elevator. The doors close behind me, and I glance back as my point of escape slips away from me. I try to remain calm as I turn my gaze ahead, but I feel not an ounce of peace. Instead, a wave of panic rushes at me, and I gasp loudly in the silence of the hall as all my defenses collapse at the mere sight of her door. Clapping my hand over my mouth, I sink back into the wall, and squeeze my eyes shut as I suck in air desperately through my nose.

 _Breathe. Just fucking breathe._ I order myself. _It's just a spanking._

I try to de-escalate the unbridled thoughts spinning through my head, but in my heart, it seems like much more than a simple punishment. Her lack of trust in me hurts more than the physical pain that will soon be burning across my backside, and I am helpless to make her see any differently.

Bending over, I lean on my knees, and scrape my palm up over my eyes and through my mussed hair. Sucking in deep breaths, I stare at the worn carpet, desperately attempting to shove back the crisis from my face.

My phone vibrates again, and I groan a low curse. Bringing the phone up towards my face, I unlock the screen and stare at the new message.

_Procrastinating won't change anything, Amanda._

I know she's right, and I mutter another curse. Pushing myself upright, I lean my head back against the wall, and blow out a long breath. I pin my gaze upon a water stain at the corner of the ceiling until my inhales and exhales smooth out. It's the best I can do.

Finally, I straighten, and do my best to rearrange my expression, but my heart hammers in my chest as I approach her door. The key rests in my hand like a ten pound weight, my palm slick with cold sweat around the metal, and as I come to stand mere inches away from the knob I hesitate one more time.

 _Just do it._ I demand of myself, a lofty request when I feel as though I'll collapse at just the thought.

I press my eyes shut as I try to bolster my strength. Reaching out, I grab the doorknob and poise the key to the lock. My breathing comes heavy as I shove it in and twist, ushering myself into my own demise.

The door gapes in front of me, and my eyes flutter open, sharply. I'm holding in a lungful of air, clutching the knob hard in my hand as I waver at the threshold. Her living room is spread out in front of me, filled with the warm, yellow light of the lamp. My vision dances across the couch and the coffee table before finding her figure across the room in the shadows by the window. Her back is turned, and even at this distance, I can see the tense set of her broad shoulders.

For a moment, I can scarcely move, and she remains still although I hardly imagine that she is unaware of my presence. She has waited for me all night, her fist of justice ready to fall.

My stomach drops when, finally, her head tilts in my direction. She glances over her shoulder at me, two dark eyes boring into my soul.

"Come in. Shut the door." She orders, her voice a low, even tenor, and if I were naive, I might have found it gentle.

I can feel a tremor running through my whole body as I step forward, and push the door shut behind me. I stand against it, rigidly, waiting for her next order.

Turning around slowly from the window, she lets the silence prolong for one, excruciating moment before she lifts one hand and beckons for me with two crooked fingers.

"Come here, Amanda." She murmurs, the low rasp of her voice washing shivers down my spine.

If it had been any other day, I would've run her to her and thrown myself down at her feet. Even if I were here, simply for my rogue investigation, I would do so, but the weight of the imagined sin weighs upon me, forcing panic rather than pleasure into my veins.

Lowering my head to hide the shimmer of tears in my eyes, I step uneasily towards her. I'm sucking hard on my lower lip by the time I make it within a foot of her, barely masking the agony gushing from me. I don't dare to lift my eyes, but her fingers brush my jaw, causing me flinch at the tender feeling, a startling comparison to the harsh, electric undercurrents that run just beneath the surface of this interaction.

"Look at me, Amanda." She insists, softly, and my stomach clenches.

Grinding my teeth against emotion, I lift my watery eyes towards her. My lids flutter as I try not to stare in the obsidian depths of her gaze, but she catches me by the chin, her hand firm and unyielding.

"Do you understand why I called you here?"

I swallow hard, pressing my eyes shut for half a second as I wonder at whether to beg once more or simply to confess to a crime I did not commit. At the end of the night, I'm sure the latter would offer me a much quicker path towards redemption, but I can hardly live with the fact that she thinks I would disregard her command and lie to her about it. Does she truly have so little faith in my devotion to her?

"I went behind your back." I whisper instead, my tone hedging at a whine.

"And you could've been seriously injured." She murmurs, a hint of concern barely lacing her reprimand.

"I know, and I'm sorry." I whisper, blinking back tears as the desperation to have her believe me seizes me once more. "But I didn't release the tape, Liv. I swear."

Her fingers slip from jaw, and she lowers her head with a barely audible sigh.

"We've been over this, Amanda." She replies in a strained tone, and the sound of her disregard strikes me through with pain and desperation at the unfairness of it all.

"When have I ever lied to you?" I question, my voice trembling.

Her eyes flick back up towards me, sparking at my paltry defense.

"You went into a club, and threw yourself at two men." She snaps, raising two fingers in my face, her eyes narrowed. "Two rapists, Amanda, do you understand?"

"Yes, I'm a fucking sex crimes detective!" I burst out, wanting nothing more than to slap her hand away from my face in disgust at her condescension. "I think I would fucking understand. I'm not a child."

I can see the shock and indignation flash across her face at my blatant disrespect, but I'm already

spinning away from her. I charge across the living room, my sights set on the door. I don't have any plan of where I would go should I leave her apartment, but every part of me is bursting to escape this room and this conversation.

I'm barely halfway to the door, however, when I feel her fingers catch my arm, biting into the tender flesh of my inner arm. I cry out as she yanks me back, then her palm is cracking hard against my ass, once, then twice, then a third final time. The sting of it through my clothing is hardly enough to bring tears to my eyes, but I find them springing anew anyways.

I'm gasping as the sudden punishment leaves me in a state of shock, and she firmly drags me back into the living room. I stumble next to her as she pulls me towards the couch, and pushes me onto the cushions on my knees.

"Liv, wait…." I finally cry out, pitifully, pressing my hands into the back of the couch as I weakly fight being bent over.

"Stop." She orders, and I know by the tone of her voice that I am testing her patience.

Sobs well up my throat as she swats me again, and my hips dip hard towards the couch. My elbows wobble, and when she strikes me a second time, I collapse into the couch. My face is pressed into the cushions as she grabs my hips and pulls them up into position. I clutch the material of the couch, hiding my face in the corner as her fingers dig beneath the waistband of my pants. She strips me quickly, pushing my pants and underwear into a bunch at my knees.

I press my face harder into the couch, swallowing back tears as she takes in my submissive position in silence. My whole being is clenched tight, waiting for her hand to fall again, but instead her fingers brush against my lower back, dragging my shirt up in an almost sensual motion.

"I wanted to take this slow." She finally says, her voice calm and composed on the surface. "I wanted to let you explain your decisions to me so that we could move forward with mutual understanding."

I dig my forehead harder into the couch, fighting sobs that would burst from lips, unchecked. It's clear that she doesn't believe me, and anything else I say will only be discredited as my trying to escape further punishment. Instead of wanting to beg with her to have mercy on me, I find myself praying for her to simply do it.

"Now," She continues, her tone deepening with frustration, "You've not only gone behind my back, ignored my orders, and lied about it, but you've also cursed at me and disrespected me."

I moan into the cushions, the only sound I can make at the sound of my indiscretions laid out before me. I know I am guilty of of many of them, but I would already be at her feet, compliant and willing were it not for the leaked tape. When I went into the club and lured Panko and D'Amico, I knew that I would face her judgment, but I never meant to for the video to be released causing her command of the precinct to be discredited. I want so badly to tell her all of this, but in my current position, I realize it would do no good.

"I'm sorry…" I finally whimper, my voice muffled.

"For what?"

"For all it." I whisper, pressing my eyes shut as my stomach aches.

I wish more than anything that she would believe me because confessing to something I didn't do makes me feel even more horrid. I have never wanted to lie to her, and this feels like a lie now, one she has forced from my mouth with her own hand.

"In detail." She encourages me in a softer, quieter tone as her fingers stroke up the curve of my spine.

"I'm sorry for going to the club without your permission." I whisper, my voice dipping and shaking. "I-I'm sorry for...for leaking the tape without your permission…."

"And?"

I hesitate, the weight of the wrongly confessed sin on my lips. Inside I am screaming, begging her to look into my eyes and believe me, and I can hardly stand to say anymore.

"Amanda…" She murmurs, her thumb stroking the curve of my spine. "All of it, please."

"Liv….." I moan, a low cry shattering my halting confession. " _Please_ …."

I hear her sigh and her hand slips away from my back, taking away what soft, gentle reassurance I was clinging to.

"If you don't want to talk to me I can move on to paddling you. Is that what you would prefer?" She questions, stiffly.

Nausea burgeons at the back of my throat, and dig my fingers harder into the cushions. My head is spinning, wondering whether I should take the punishment now and disappoint her, or spit out the words she wants to hear, confessing to something I didn't do.

 _She's already disappointed_. I rationalize, _What's the difference_?

"Amanda." She prompts as my silence lengthens.

I swallow hard, turning my face away from the cushions to stare at the back of the couch.

"J-just do it." I whisper, my body taut in anticipation of her response.

For a moment, she says nothing, but I can feel the disappointment washing off of her in waves above me.

Finally, she replies in a quieter, but stony tone, "I hope you realize that this is not what I wanted."

 _It's not what I wanted either_. The thought runs through my mind with a rush of tears in my eyes, but I bite my lip, holding back the words.

I feel her step away from me, and I turn my head slowly in the direction of the room to watch her movements. She's turned away from me, stripping off her blazer, and I watch her precisely fold the sleeves of her blouse up above her elbow. I swallow thickly as her bronzed forearms come into view, her pulsing veins tracking across her smooth flesh. I know the strength behind those olive hands, and a part of me wants to break. I have to clamp my jaw shut to hold back the impetuous pleas for mercy that stir fitfully in my throat.

I blink quickly against strands of hair in my face as I watch her hand extend towards the paddle which lies at the edge of the coffee table. The sight of tool causes my stomach seize even before her long fingers wrap around the handle with unwavering intention.

She turns towards me, and I glance up at her over my shoulder, my glittering gaze meeting hers for half a second. Then, she steps closer, and I feel her hand slide flat over my lower back then dip beneath my hip bone, holding me flush against her.

"I'm going to punish you ten times for every time you were disobedient today." She says, at last, low and even, striking dread through my stomach. "If it's too much all at once, you'll tell me. Do you understand?"

Dragging my face into the cushions once more, I nod miserably into the fabric. I can hardly bear to think of the final tally or of the scenario of having to return here again tomorrow to take the rest. I want to scream out how unfair it is, how unjust her decisions truly are, but instead I bite down on the cushions and gag the cries welling up to my lips.

I feel her fingers tighten around my hip, the slightest tell to warn me of the impending pain. With my body rigid, I squeeze my eyes shut so tightly that colors burst across my vision; yet none so bright as when the first strike burns across my flesh.

I lurch into the couch, releasing a low moan into cushion as the sound of it shatters against my ears. The aftermath stings intensely into layer upon layer of my skin, and I know she won't let it fade, even for half of a second.

My fingers ache as I clutch the couch hard enough to blanch the blood from knuckles. I can feel her drag me back into position, hips arched in submission to her. Then the paddle cracks against my buttocks a second time, like another strike of a match upon my freshly broken ass. A loud cry pushes up against the cushion, tears raging behind my lids.

I've only taken two, but I can hardly stand it. Even more than my punished flesh, my heart is aching. I want to pull away from her, shake her by the shoulders and make her believe me, but I can't. I have made myself her submissive, and she has, with grace, taken up the cloak of my protector. If I am to stop it, I must still respect her, but our safe word seems bitter on the back of my tongue. I know I have to take at least what I deserve, but the poison of her unbelief saps what desire I have to yield to her guidance.

When she spanks me again, I wrench beneath her, my body twisting away from her in silent rebellion. I know full well that I could earn myself another ten, but I can hardly bring myself to care when, at this very moment, my heart is breaking beneath her misguided punishment.

She grabs me with a firm hand, and her arm wraps fully around my waist. She plants her foot in the couch, her knee wedged beneath my hips, trapping me. She doesn't say a word as she brings the paddle to bear again, punishing my writhing ass hard. The strength behind the strike shocks me, and I hang over her knee, gasping as I reel in pain.

"Oh...Oliv...ia…" Her name chokes from lips between breathless pants, and I can feel the tears blooming quickly in my eyes.

My fingers scramble for purchase across the material of the couch, but she paddles me again, causing me to flounder against her like a fish out of water. I can scarcely breathe as another lash follows the first in quick succession, then another and another.

Finally, a cry breeches my lips, ragged and devastated.

"Oh, fuck, please…." I groan, my curses followed by engulfing, halting tears.

I jolt when she punishes me again twice, crudely breaking off my pain cries.

"Ten." She murmurs, huskily, the first word she's spoken since commencing the vicious reprimand.

I feel her fingers at my stomach stroke softly for a moment, the tiniest of sensations igniting across my flesh, and the anger comes again, a startling wave encompassing my chest. I release a guttural cry, jarring against her leg as I suddenly slam my fist into the couch.

"Amanda!" Her exclamation is sharp, a warning.

I sink against her, crying forlornly into the cushions. My body is shuddering and twitching with the onslaught of emotions and sensations, and I want nothing more than to sink into the ground and hide from her. It's a wretched feeling.

For a long moment, she doesn't say anything, but I can feel the tension and apprehension spreading through her at my flagrant display of defiance. At last, she shifts her knee out from under me, allowing me to sink into the cushions. Her presence hovers close to me as she kneels down beside me, and I feel her fingers stroke the back of my head.

"Amanda…." She murmurs. "Talk to me."

I turn my face sharply away from her, quickly shaking my head. I asked her to listen to me before, and she didn't. I don't even want to look in her eyes now, much less speak to her.

"I'm giving you one more chance to explain it to me." She says, softly, her hand trailing down to my back where she slowly rubs.

The massaging motion is a comfort I've so often sought, but it doesn't lure me now. I stare steadily at the couch pattern through blurry tears, waiting for her patience to unravel.

She stays next to me for several more unbearable moments, and if it had been any other night, I would've worshipped her for her endurance and tenderness, but instead, all I can feel is betrayal.

"Say the word, and I will put this down." She offers at last, her tone firm. "If you don't want to be here. If you're not ready to be repentant and accept your punishment as it is due."

I purse my lips hard, swallowing back the words she'd have me say simply to order me back here within a day's time. The relief would be temporary, perhaps even more short lived than twenty four hours considering the torturous thoughts that will consume me in the interim.

"I...I can take it." I whisper, haltingly.

"I know, baby." She replies, quietly, but her voice is full of strain and conflict. "But that doesn't mean you want to."

Tears fill my eyes as her assessment. She knows me far too well to simply accept my behavior at face value. She pries open my heart each and every time she touches me, and would expect nothing less of herself as my caretaker; yet, now, she refuses to look into my eyes and believe the words coming out of my mouth.

I close my eyes as a stray tear slips over my nose and plummets towards the cushions while above me she slips away. She stands over me for a silent moment before I hear her emit a low sigh. The paddle clanks against the coffee table, and her footsteps pad softly away from me.

I remain still against the couch, hardly possessing the emotional or physical willpower to move. I feel drained after the punishment, and the dread that builds inside me as I realize this isn't over, takes what is left.

I hear her in the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets, clinking a glass. She'll take care of me now, rehydrating my body and soothing my beaten flesh, but I don't even know if I want her to. My weak limbs twitch, screaming to push me up and towards the door. I could leave of my own accord now, and she'd be in no position to stop me, but I collapse once more, tears throbbing at my lids.

I twist my head when I hear her re enter the room, and I catch sight of her over my shoulder. Her chin is lowered as she crosses the room to me, a glass of water in one hand and a cold, wet washcloth in the other. Kneeling beside me, sets the glass down and leans in close to me to lay the cooling cloth over my swollen flesh.

I clench my teeth at the sharp, cold sensation, releasing a low hiss as the initial shock fades into relief. In this moment, I hate how gentle she is. I wish that she would reprimand me, incite me to another angry outburst. It would make it easier to tear away from her, and run from this room, but it's never easy with her.

"Drink this." She murmurs, touching my shoulder as she offers me the glass.

I hide the roll of my eyes from her as I shift up onto my elbows. I am not some fragile flower who will wilt without watering.

Taking the glass from her, I take a short sip before casting her a watery glance through tangled strands of hair. Her veneer of composed commander is firmly in place, but her fingers are soft as she reaches up to tup the wild tendrils behind my ear. I flinch, my eyes flickering away from her.

I don't want her apologetic caresses. Not until she recognizes that I was telling the truth.

"Take another sip." She insists, her hand trailing down my shoulder.

I release a low sigh, and tilt the glass to my lips again. Taking several large gulps, I empty the glass, and shove it back at her, spitefully. She takes it, and I can tell my the parting of her lips and the hesitant look in her eyes that she wants to say something, but I lay back down, turning my face into the couch once more.

I don't care anymore. I just want her to leave me alone.

"Amanda…" She begins, her voice low with concern.

I feel her touch my arm, and I pull away from her, shifting myself deeper into the back of the couch.

"Don't touch me." I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut again tears.

She's quiet for a moment, although I can feel the shock and hurt radiating from her.

Finally, she clears her throat, and asks in a strained tone, "Are you invoking the safeword?"

I swallow hard over the knot in my throat, and nod slowly into the couch. I don't want to speak, and I pray she'll accept the physical response rather than an audible one.

"All right." She murmurs at last, and I can hear the way she tried to lighten consternation lining her voice, but it's there all the same, trembling and raw.

The slightest pain goes through me at the sound of emotion thickening her tone. I know it's not fair. God, I know. I've spent the past five, fucking hours drowning in unfairness.

She rises from the floor once more, and I crack my eyes open to catch her movements. She goes to the recliner and takes the blanket from the back of the chair, and I squeeze my eyes shut again as she walks back to me. I feel her drape the soft, warm blanket over my body, slowly tucking it around me with every ounce of care that I have come to expect, but it only hurts more knowing I can't accept it. Ducking my face into the corner of the blanket, I hide the tears spilling down my cheeks.

"You can come to the bed anytime you want." She whispers, causing my chest to ache because I'm so angry, and yet I want her affection so badly in the wake of the punishment.

I nod haltingly once more, but despite the desire for her comfort, I've already decided I won't go to her. Doing so would surely be an admission of guilt, an affirmation that she was right all along in her actions. Doing so would be forgiveness, and God knows that won't come so quickly.


	2. Chapter 2

_Olivia_

Over the years, I've learned to trust my gut feelings far more than logic, and at times, more than raw evidence. It's lead me to SVU, to the final end of justice in many cases, to the position of lieutenant, and here, to my relationship with Amanda. It was the screaming and writhing of my body that allowed me to abandon all thoughts of consequence, and take up the emotional journey of becoming her protector, and I'm not sure why I have ignored it now.

Lying in bed alone as the sun begins to rise, I'm staring up at the ceiling, my stomach twisting and turning with the same intangible instinct I've come to rely on.

I may have made a horrible mistake last night.

When I saw the leaked tape on the TV I followed my panic and the scenario of Chief Dodds coming down on me for not only an illegal investigation, but also the possibility of a lawsuit. Clouded with these thoughts, I pointed my finger at the most obvious culprit, assured that I was infallibly correct.  _She's broken the rules and the law before_ , I reasoned.  _She's disobeyed me more times than I can count_. Filled with the fire of justice, I rushed to judgment far more quickly than I would've with any other member of my team. It pains me now to realize that I used our relationship against her rather than for her, as a place to offer honesty and understanding.

I have no evidence as to who released the tape, but I am almost certain after a night of tossing and turning that it was not Amanda as I was originally convinced. Analyzing her reactions and behavior, I have slowly come to the horrifying realization that I may have accused her of something she did not do, and then proceeded to punish her for it.

I know that perhaps she deserved the ten I gave her for going undercover without my permission, and maybe if I held rigidly to my rules with her, I would not feel so guilty, but I do. Even now, she is lying on the couch alone, no doubt, in deep emotional pain over my accusations and following actions, and I can hardly deign the punishment unerringly just. The part of me that is most tender to her even wishes to take back the lashings I gave her, deserved or not, but I remind myself that I know nothing for certain.

 _I wasn't_ certain  _of anything last night either._ I think derisively as I finally toss back the sheets and sit up on the edge of the bed.

Staring off towards the window, I try to form a plausible course of action. If she did not release the tape, I have no idea how I will make it up to her. Unfounded accusations will no doubt put a gaping hole where her trust for me previously lay, and as much as I hate to imagine such a reality, I realize that I must accept it if it comes down to it. I have to do what I didn't yesterday, and find the truth before flinging allegations, or else my apologies will be useless.

I glance back towards the bedroom door, trying to imagine what I will say to her in the light of day.

While everything within me wants to rush to her side and plead for her forgiveness, I remind myself that just as I did not know for certain that she did it last night, I do not know for certain that she didn't today. Any further rash decisions will only lead to more hurt feelings and confusion.

Releasing a calming breath, I stand from the bed, preparing myself to go out to her. Squaring my shoulders, I head towards the door, and force myself not to hesitate any longer. The sooner I send her off in order to begin my search for the truth the better.

I exit the bedroom, and walk quietly down the hall, careful not to disturb her should she still be sleeping, but when I reach the living room, my eyes fall upon an empty couch. The blanket is tossed over the arm of the couch, and on the coffee table, she's discarded the washcloth.

"Amanda?" I call out into the silence of the apartment, but there is no response.

Turning back towards the hall, I find the bathroom door ajar and the room beyond dark and empty. In my heart, I know that she has left, but I ignore that in exchange for crossing the living room to search the kitchen. It's just as I left it last night, and with a low a sigh, I walk slowly back to the couch, and sit down in the middle. The cushions are cold. She has been gone for some time.

Lowering my face into my hands, I contemplate the meaning of her departure. She was both angry and hurt last night. I had initially hoped she was simply rebelling, but the longer that I ponder the situation, the clearer it becomes that there was more to it than that.

Sliding my hands from my cheeks, I glance over at the blanket crumpled next to me. I pull it closer to me, and close my eyes as I press my nose onto the fabric. The slightest hints of her shampoo and perfume drift to my senses, stinging my eyes with remorseful tears, and the lonely ache in my chest at her absence throbs harder.

I only allow myself a few more self pitying seconds before I set aside the blanket. As I leave the scene of last night's disaster, I resolve not to end the day until I find the answers I desire, and the resolution that I need, even if that outcome is me on my knees instead of her. She trusts me, and it's time I meet her with the same unflinching confidence.

**xxxxx**

It's a rare occurrence that I arrive late to work, and when I step off of the elevator, I can sense all of their eyes shift towards me as I stride into the squad room.

"Hey, Liv," Fin greets me as he leans back in his chair and takes in my appearance. "Long night?"

"Uhhh, yeah," I respond. "They're all long nights when you have a toddler."

"Right." Find replies, dryly.

I doubt he believes me. We've worked together long enough for him to sense my bullshit, but he won't call me out on it either. Noah is a good enough excuse for one day, but it won't last long if I don't reconcile with Amanda.

I slow as my eyes find her across the room at the round table. On the whiteboard, photos of the victims of our latest case are arranged in neat order, and across from them the suspects. She's staring at their faces, but I wonder what is truly happening behind her brilliantly blue eyes. I expect nothing less than stellar work of her, even after last night, but I know how well she can front.

I consider going over her to, simply to ensure her mental well being, but I decide that it would be a waste of both of our energy. She won't open up to me in this state, and if I make things worse this early in the morning, I fear how long it will take to rectify the situation.

Instead, I head directly into the office, shutting the door and closing all of the blinds behind me. Sitting down at my desk, I open my laptop and search the news outlet which released the video of Amanda, Panko, and D'Amico. The page opens to the video at the top, and below a short article, describing the content and previous accusations made against the two men.

"Damn." I murmur as I skip to the section that describes the person who released the footage only as a "concerned inside source."

I hadn't doubted for a second that the person who leaked the tape was someone inside SVU, and a part of me smarts at the reinforcement of that deduction. The last thing that Chief Dodds needs to hear from my newest member and his son is that I am not running an airtight unit.

With a sigh, I scroll to the bottom of the article where the journalist's name and contact information is listed. It's an incredibly long shot, and I will no doubt be shut down within the first minute of the phone call, but I have to try something. My integrity as well as my relationship with Amanda is on the line.

Grabbing the phone off the cradle, I quickly dial the number and extension. While it begins to ring, I push out of the chair and restlessly pace behind the desk.

"Come on, come on." I mutter as the shrill ring plays over and over in my ear.

Finally, the line clicks, and I pause my pacing, with bated breath.

"NY 1, this is Julien."

"Good morning, Julien." I reply, steadying my tone, "Lieutenant Olivia Benson, NYPD Sex Crimes."

"Hello." Julien replies slowly, his tone guarded. "What can I do for New York's Finest today?"

"You recently came into possession of a recording." I begin, keeping my voice even and relaxed despite the circumstances.

"If this is about Panko and D'Amico, you can stop right there." Julien says with a laugh. "I don't have to give you anything, and this is a big deal. D'Amico is news, and that video has already been viewed millions of times."

"I have no interest in taking it from you." I assure him. "I'm just asking for a favor."

"A favor." He repeats. "You're the NYPD. No offense, but the last time I checked you and I wouldn't exactly be the best of friends."

"I get it, I do." I insist. "But I'm sure you already know that the tape came from my unit."

"Yeah, I've actually been trying to get in contact with your honey trap for the past twenty four hours." Julien says, the first hint of interest in our conversation entering his tone.

"Oh, have you?" I ask, slowly, my mind whirring.

If Amanda had released the tape, he would already know who she is and how to contact her. His eagerness to meet her can only mean one thing. She didn't release the tape, and she certainly didn't meet with him.

"Maybe you can get me the blonde on record, and I'll give you what you want to know." Julien offers. "Which was…?"

"Who did give it to you if not 'the blonde' herself?" I retort, pacing behind the chair once more, my heart pounding quickly.

"Ah…" Julien sighs with amusement. "You don't want your unit turning into a leaky faucet, huh? Unfortunately, I have bigger fish to fry, and apparently so do you."

"What does that mean?" I demand, coming to a halt as his words turn my head with implications.

"I'm sure you'll figure it out, lieutenant." He jabs. "But not with my help. Have a nice day, okay?"

The line clicks in my ear, and I hiss a curse. I knew a journalist wouldn't give up a source from the beginning, but a part of me had hoped. In any case, I would've never turned Amanda over to a vulture like Julien and the NY 1 whether it gave me the answer I wanted or not.

Hanging up the phone, I tap my fingernails quickly on the desk as I turn over the information that he unwittingly gave me.

_Bigger fish…._

Crossing the room, I pry the blinds open with two fingers in order to glance out into the squad room. My gaze finds Mike's tall, broad figure quickly, and my eyes narrow as I realize he and Amanda are conversing at the round table. She's risen from her seat, and they're standing close, both of them wearing tight lipped frowns. Amanda motions with one hand sharply, and even at this distance, I can see the distress on her features.

I've barely begun to piece together what they might be saying to each other, although my stomach is turning with the slow twist of dread, when Mike's gaze flicks in my direction as if he can sense my eyes upon them. I release the blinds quickly, and they snap into place as I step back from the window. My heart is racing shallowly in my chest, and my brain is running faster than I can keep up with, fitting together fragments of evidence and the beginnings of a theory.

Sitting back down at the desk, I stare at the laptop where the video is looping again. Even with no sound, I can't stand it. I slam the laptop closed, and clasp my trembling hands together, trying to contain myself.

If I had an inkling of making a terrible mistake this morning, it's certainly a full formed fact now. Amanda didn't do this, and after nearly 20 years on the job, I should've known better than to jump to conclusions.

A knock at the door startles me, and I heave a heavy, calming breath as I try to smooth the dismay from my face.

"Come in." I call out, my voice steely over the tremble of indignation.

The door cracks open, and Mike steps inside, his own expression full of apprehension. He shuts the door softly behind him, hesitating before turning towards me. I can see him bolstering his confidence as our eyes meet, and I hope I disintegrate every thread of that poise with my burning glare.

"Amanda was just telling me she didn't release the tape." He says at last. "And I believe her."

"Why?" I ask, leaning back in the chair and folding my arms.

I'm not going to admit for him that he released the tape. If he's going to confess this to me, he'll say it of his own accord, with his own voice.

"Because," He says, slowly, his gaze flitting away from mine, "I know who did."

"And surely," I murmur, narrowing my glare upon him, "If your integrity is as solid as your father swears it is you would tell me."

His jaw clenches, but he remains composed, his gaze humble as it greet mine.

"You already know." He replies, softly. "And I know what you're thinking, but don't worry… it can't be traced, and I really don't want you to be out between me and my father, so I suggest you stop asking questions….please."

I listen to his explanations and excuses, his justifications and assurances, displeasure growing hotly in my chest, rising to a stinging throb in my eyes.

"That's only half of the problem." I finally snap, sitting forward as I stab my finger towards the squad room. "I have punished Amanda for a crime she did not commit, Mike."

"I know, and I never meant for that to happen." He explains, his expression belying guilt.

I look away from him with a frustrated sigh and shake of my head. I want so badly to blame him for how I chose to proceed with Amanda, but I know that would be neither fair nor correct. I made my own mistakes, and I realize that I no longer care if Chief Dodds appears in my office, ready to chastise me for this disgrace of a situation. All I care about is Amanda, and the fact that a series of bad decisions on all our parts has lead to irreversible damage to our relationship.

"Look, you can do what you want with me, Olivia," He offers, quietly, at last, spreading out his hands, "but Panko and D'Amico got what they deserved, and that's not something I would change."

I flick my eyes back towards him as he turns and strides towards the door. I let him go. For now, my mind is consumed with Amanda. His consequences can come later, whereas mine are presently crashing down upon my head.

I know the truth now, and understanding how easy it was discover it makes me feel even more guilty for ignoring it in exchange for my fears and assumptions. Now, Amanda has paid the price, and I have little to offer as I request her forgiveness. I can only pray that she has the softness in her heart to give me the mercy that I could not.

**xxxxx**

Pacing back and forth across my living room, I hold Noah's sleeping figure in one arm, and my phone with the other hand.

I've checked for a new message from Amanda dozens of times within in the past hour, and the screen still stares back at me, blank and silent. My own message that I typed out with great uncertainty seems more and more pathetic with every minute that passes, and with a sigh, I stuff my phone back into my pocket.

Bouncing Noah against my chest, I absentmindedly kiss the top of his soft, warm head as I hold him close. Typically, I would've already put him into his bed, but his presence is calming and his absolute trust in me reassuring.

I've spent the majority of the day agonizing over the state of mine and Amanda's relationship, trying to plot some path to forgiveness. When I texted her to come here I didn't have a plan, and now, an hour later, I still don't. I realize she assumes I have called her here for the continuation of her punishment, but I couldn't bring myself to tell her over text messages that I was wrong. She deserves to hear it face to face.

Pacing back to the window, I glance down at the street below. I expect it to be empty, just as it has been the past ten times I've checked, but this time, I freeze at the sight of a blonde, petite woman on the sidewalk. Clutching Noah close, I strain to make out the distinct features of Amanda's face as she lifts her head. Although I doubt she can see me, I feel as though she's staring directly into my soul as she releases a cloud of cigarette smoke from between her lips.

 _I've told her a dozen times to stop that horrible habit_. The thought runs through my mind, unchecked, and I clench my teeth.

I'm in no position to dictate her life choices when my own judgment had so recently lead us astray. Her petulance means nothing in this moment, and neither does my distaste of it. She has yet to revoke the safeword, and until I hear it I am bound by her consent and my own poor decisions. I can't even touch her, even in the gentlest way.

Turning away from the window, my heart racing, I quickly walk Noah back to his room, and ease him down into his bed. He stirs for only a moment, and I soothe him quietly before he settles down. I heave a sigh as I straighten, standing over him for a moment. A part of me doesn't even want to leave the room.

I called her here, but inside I am afraid. She has no reason to forgive me, and I feel most unworthy.

Finally, I attempt to gather my courage, and leave my son's bedside. As I'm closing the door behind me, I hear the key jiggling in the knob, signaling that Amanda has reached my apartment. I blow out another long breath, and squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, praying for the right words to come to my lips.

When I open my eyes, I can see the door beginning to open, and I know I should leave the dark hall and go out to greet her, but as she comes into view, I find myself hesitating for a few more moments.

"Liv…?" Her voice reaches, and I can discern the apprehension in tone.

Forcing myself away from Noah's door, I walk slowly down the hall until I step in the pewter light of the lamp. She's wandered into the middle of the living room, and as she senses my presence, she glances over her shoulder. Her eyes find me, guarded yet shimmering. Her hands are clenched into fists at her sides, and I feel my chest twist with remorse.

I have never wanted to hurt her, and now I have, whether it was intentional or not. All the good intentions in the world cannot make up for my lack of trust in her.

We stare at each for a long moment, and I can hardly stand the fear and hurt hiding in her cerulean gaze. Finally, I duck my head, hiding the tears that would burst forth from my own eyes.

"You should just do it, Liv." She whispers at last, her voice husky with barely concealed emotion.

I glance up quickly at her insinuation to see her stripping off her jacket, tremulous courage glittering in her eyes. She tosses the coat to the floor, her quivering hands reaching for her pants next.

"Amanda, wait." I finally manage to speak, my voice strangled with unshed tears as I break from my stance at the threshold of the room.

Rushing to her, I clutch her hands where they're poised at the button of her jeans. I promised myself I wouldn't lay a finger on her without her permission, but I'm desperate to right the crooked path that these two days have taken.

"I spoke with Mike." I murmur at last, glancing up at her confused expression.

She stares at me for a moment, understanding dawning slowly within her eyes. My heart beats loudly in my ears as wait for her reaction, and I feel as though I am suspended between relief and heartbreak, a terrifying balance that sucks the air from my lungs.

"So what are you telling me?" She asks rigidly at last, her voice a bare, raspy whisper. "You believe me now?"

I cannot fault her for the spite in her tone though it burns me through and through. Biting at my lower lip, I glance down at our clasped hands, her small, pale fingers taut in my grasp. I don't even know where to begin to apologize but I must, no matter the shame.

"I made a mistake, Amanda." I whisper at last, hardly able to look up at her. "And I am so, so sorry."

She's silent for a long, excruciating second, and I can feel the tension in her body. She's ready to tear herself from me at any second, and I know I should let her go. I have no right to force her to listen my apology if she doesn't want to hear it. I have hurt her, and I am no position to demand she forgive me.

"So that's it?" She asks at last, and with one, rough yank, she pulls her hands away from mine. "One conversation with the Chief Dodds' precious son, and you believe every word he says?"

"Amanda," I begin, my voice trembling on the note of a plea, "that's not how it was."

"No!?" She demands, her tone rising nearly to a shout.

She turns away from me, hiding her flushed, incredulous expression from me. Running her hands through her hair, she clutches the messy blonde strands at her scalp, her shoulders tense with anger. I can see the tremble washing over entire being, an undercurrent of pain that I have unknowingly plunged into her veins, and slowly she sinks to the couch as if she has wilted from that very poison.

I watch her, struck mute by the pain emanating from her, as she hunches over her knees. I struggle to string together the words which would form something even close to an acceptable apology, but I feel woefully inadequate and helpless. Tears rise to my eyes as I think she must have felt the same last night, bent over my knee and sobbing for my unwavering belief.

Finally, I can't stand to do nothing anymore. Even if she doesn't forgive me, I have to try to confess the length of mistakes and ill drawn conclusions to her. My chest aches with the heaviness of guilt, like a rock sinking me into the ocean of her despair.

Dropping to my knees in front of her, I clasp my hands together, a prayer or maybe just pitiful measure to stop myself from touching her again.

"Amanda," I begin, my voice wavering, "I know I am not entitled to your forgiveness. I wouldn't ask that of you so quickly when I have hurt you so badly…"

At this, her head lifts slightly, and my throat tightens at the sight of the tears slipping silently down her cheeks. She casts me a watery, untrusting gaze, but doesn't stop me.

"I admit to being selfish." I continue, my voice dipping and trembling as I struggle to control myself. "I only thought of myself and the backlash from Dodds when I saw the leaked tape."

Her brows furrow, but the iciness of her glare has melted into a glaze of distraught tears.

My pride is burning, but I give no regard to my own feelings. She must hear all of this order for me to be absolved, and maybe even more for the night to reach it's resolution.

"I used your past mistakes a justification to accuse you." I whisper, barely able to hold her gaze as the worst of my decisions begin to flood from my mouth. "I didn't listen to you. I silenced you. I punished you for something you didn't do, and I am incredibly,  _incredibly_  ashamed of myself…"

I flick my gaze up towards her once more, but she's staring down at her fingers, picking at her thumb nail. She doesn't say anything for a moment, but I can see the words bubbling up to her lips in the way they tremble.

"I feel invalidated." She whispers at last with a shrug. "Trapped. Sad. Angry. And I don't know what to do with all those things."

She glances up at me, fresh tears welling in her eyes, and though I have failed her only a day ago, she looks to me for the answer. I feel so undeserving in this moment, so angry at myself for having let her down in such a crucial moment.

I expect her to trust me fully, and she has earned my own trust time and again with her willful, blessed submission to me. I have repaid her with insidious doubt, and what is my price to pay but a blow to my pride? If anyone is unworthy in this moment, it is me. I'm bowed at her feet, but it's scarce enough for an offering of penitence.

Gazing up at her, I know that should our positioned be switched as they were last night a confession and a repentant plea would hardly suffice for such an indiscretion. A quiver of uncertainty seizes my chest because I know what I must do, but if I cannot once stand in her shoes then I am not truly her caretaker, only a pathetic excuse for a tyrant.

"Can I hold your hands?" I whisper, no longer bothering to hide the tremble in my tone.

I'd ask her to bare herself to me in the midst of what I hope to be a reconciliation, and I can give her nothing less.

She bites her lower lip, her gaze flicking away from mine as she hesitates before nodding slowly. Her fingers uncurl towards mine, and I clasp them, quickly, releasing an unsteady breath. The quiver in my fingers draws a frown across her brow, and her eyes track back towards mine uncertainly.

"You're shaking." She whispers, clutching my fingers tighter.

I nod, my heart pounding relentlessly in my chest, throbbing through my whole being. Sinking down against her knees, I press my forehead to her knuckles and draw a few halting breaths.

"Punish me." I whisper at last, squeezing my eyes shut as I wait for her response.

"Liv…." She whispers, shocked at my words. "I….what?"

"I will take the rest that were meant for you… and whatever else you see fit." I continue, bolstering my tone with my desire to correct the undeniable wrong I have done to our relationship.

She doesn't immediately answer, and I sense her struggling to accept my request with all of its implications, but I want nothing else of this night. I cannot accept her forgiveness without due consequences, and I swore in my heart, to her and to myself, not to end the day until we had found some way to reconcile.

"W-wait…" She stutters, and I feel her hands tugging away from mine.

A shard of panic goes through my chest as she struggles away from me. She begins to stand up, jostling me off her lap, and I fall back to the carpet which burns my palms with a fiery lick.

"I - I can't do this." She cries, stumbling over my legs on her way to her escape.

"Amanda…" I plead after her, scrambling up from the floor.

"Please, just stop it." She insists, throwing out her hands, tears flooding her eyes once more. "You really fucking hurt me, Liv! You don't get to do this your way!"

I want to say more, but instead I press my clasped hands to my mouth, and let her throw her pain and anger at me, even as burning emotion overflows from lids.

"I  _don't_  forgive you." She cries, wiping the back of her over cheeks even as more tears take the place of those soaking into her flesh. "And I  _don't_  want to be with you right now."

I want to say I understand. I want to let her go until she is ready, but the pain of her words cut deeply into my chest to a place I thought I had boarded up long ago, even to her. I feel as though my ribs are cracking open, baring my raw, throbbing heart to the sharp blade of her rejection - and there is nothing I can do to stop it from plunging into me.

The pain freezes me there in my place, taking away even the smallest breath I could breathe, and before I can form even the thought of a plea she's spinning away from me, fleeing.

And this time, I don't get to stop her.


	3. Chapter 3

_Amanda_

 

Anger is an old friend of mine, a familiar face in what has been the constant turmoil of my life. It's been a safe place for me when I fear I do not have the strength to endure, but it has been a long time now since my safe place was inside of myself instead of with her, and that shoulder of rage I have leaned on before is not so comforting now.

 

It's only taken me three days to become exhausted by the effort it takes to keep that fire kindling in my chest. I thought it would come easily after the way she treated me, but instead of riding the waves of this tempest with fervor, I have fallen, my head slowly sinking beneath the churning waters.

 

Awakening on the third morning, a headache gripping my skull and sinuses, I can hardly find the motivation to rise from the bed. I already feel as though I could cry again, mere minutes after opening my eyes. The loneliness of this empty bed grips me first, followed by memories of the unjust punishment, then the most recent agony of the brooding silence between us.

 

We haven't spoken of that night, nor have we been alone together to have the privacy to do so. Our lack of connection has been by my own design, a carefully crafted plan to protect myself from further pain at her beautiful hands, yet pained I am. I loathe what she did and how it makes me feel about myself, but still I wish so badly for her to be next to me, her arms gentle around my body, lips as soft as a flower’s petal.

 

I haven't forgiven her for her doubt in me, and I'm not sure how to accomplish such a thing, but it shakes me to think that I am beginning to want to. Her position in my life has been reduced to co-worker, and her absence from my daily routine causes a slow, aching sadness to creep into my heart. While her physical being may not be with me, she captivates my every thought, bringing with her an inescapable loneliness.

 

Even now, scarce seconds after waking, I am clutched by the dichotomy of my feelings over the rift in our relationship. I close my eyes against the hot burn of emotion, contemplating how I will make it through another day of being so close to her and yet so far. It takes me several long minutes before I am able to rouse myself. Rubbing my hands over my face, I massage my aching sinuses, and with a heavy sigh, I roll up into a sitting position at the edge of the bed. Staring at the wall, I imagine how I will greet her today, what words I will use in order to maintain this fragile space between us. What will I say to keep her at arm's length when I all I want is to pretend that none of this ever happened?

 

Finally, I can spare no more time for these hopeless, pathetic thoughts. The minutes are quickly slipping away from me, and the last thing I need is to cause a confrontation over a late arrival.

 

I rush through a ten minute shower, and the cup of coffee that I count as a breakfast, and head out the door, a knot of dread twisting in my stomach.

 

When I arrive, riding the elevator upwards, I heave a deep breath and try to arrange an even expression. Stepping out on the floor, I clench my hands into fists and stride down the hall towards the squad room. When I lift my head, however, I'm appalled to see her leaning against my desk, arms folded. We've spent the past few days rarely speaking, much less looking at each other, and I'm shocked that she's decided to so blatantly confront me in the middle of the squad room, but maybe I should know better.

 

Olivia wants solutions, an immediate repair. Her patience has lasted barely as long as my vengeful anger, and a lump begins to form in my throat as I sense the past three days conflict coming to a head.

 

I quickly cross the room, my head lowered, heart beginning to pound. I want a way out of this situation, but I'm frustrated that she has chosen the squad room as a place to break the silence. She thinks I won't listen to her without the leverage of her lieutenant's title, and maybe she's right. I'm not ready to have this conversation, and if she's about to force my hand a second time, I'm not sure what I'll do.

 

I brush past her, biting my lip as our arms touch briefly, leaving the patch of flesh burning with the electric, sizzling energy between us. Tossing my bag down on top of the desk, I sink into the chair, praying that by some miracle she will take my cold shoulder as a blaring hint to leave me alone, but her presence remains, heavy with impending doom.

 

I hardly dare to glance up at her as I flip open my laptop and begin to boot the device. There's a tremble and a tingle in my fingers when I type in my password, twelve little dots against the sharp, blue background of the NYPD logo.

 

“Rollins.” She finally speaks, her voice low and deep, a warning that rakes shivers down my spine.

 

My hands hover over the keyboard, and I stare intensely at the screen, my heart rate ratcheting higher. I know what she wants to do to me, but she can't. She's bound by my safeword, and I have no intention of revoking it. Despite my lonely thoughts this morning, her suffocating nagging clouds my mind with anxiety and the fear of repeating that horrible night.

 

“Amanda.” She finally says my first name when I refuse to look at her.

 

I clench my teeth hard, my eyes stinging. I duck my chin, holding my breath against desperate exclamations that wish to spring from my lips. Although we've barely made a scene I feel as though every other officer inside the squad room is staring at us, waiting for me explode into a tearful outburst.

 

I'm staring at the home screen of the laptop, unmoving as I try desperately to swallow down the knot at the back of my throat when, suddenly, she swiftly reaches in front of me, slamming the laptop closed. I gasp, yanking my hands back before the lid can trap my fingers. I can feel myself quivering, the tingle in my hands traveling up towards my face as she bends in close to me, our faces bear inches apart.

 

“I'm trying to talk to you.” She murmurs in a low tone, barely loud enough to hear.

 

I stare down at her olive, veined hand spread out over the top of my laptop, her wine colored nails arched into the sleek finish as if she wants to fling it to the floor between us in frustration. Her calm tone might've fooled someone else, but her barely discernible tells are as clear as a morning sky to me.

 

Finally, jutting my trembling chin, I turn my eyes towards hers, my gaze locking on her dangerously close one. The deep chestnut of her eyes swirl with unidentified intentions, and the scent of her perfume drifts through my nostrils like a smoke signal.

 

“My office.” She orders firmly. “Now.”

 

I swallow hard against a knot of apprehension in my throat, the tremble in my extremities spreading to my stomach with sharp quivers of panic. We stare hard at each for an excruciating moment before she straightens, motioning towards the office door.

 

“After you.” She offers, a strain lacing her otherwise controlled tone.

 

Clutching the arms of the chair, I rise slowly. My knees feel weak beneath me, but I manage to stand up in front of her. My stomach is turning as I step past her and head towards the office, cold hands clenched into fists at my sides. Her footfalls are heavy behind me as though she is chasing me into her snare, and I quicken my pace to cut short the feeling.

 

I falter as I step inside, watching her enter behind me. She shuts the door, her back turned to me as the latch clicks into place slowly. I brace myself, expecting her to immediately scold me, but she remains at the door for a long moment as the silence envelops us. The ticking of the clock on the wall scrapes against my ears as my anxiety rises with each passing a second.

 

Finally, I hear her release a low breath, and her rigid posture sags. Pressing a hand to the door, she leans against it, and I can feel my throat tightening to a tiny passage in my neck as I realize that her brash, demanding attitude has been but a facade.

 

This isn't about work.

 

“I'm sorry I had to do that.” She murmurs at last, her voice raspy.

 

“ _Had_ to?” I question, my voice trembling as I cling to the frail idea that this is nothing more than than a reprimand for tardiness. “I was barely even late, Liv. I-”

 

I cut off sharply as she turns towards me, her dark eyes locking upon mine. Her gaze takes the wind from my lungs as I sense the storm broiling beneath her flesh in the form of her furled brows and glistening eyes.

 

“What are you doing?” I barely manage the breathless, husky demand to which I already know the answer.

 

She ignores my question, pushing away from the door, and closing the space between us in a few long strides. I take a halting step back as she stops bare inches from me, and I feel her fingers brush my arms in quiet supplication. Her touch sets my senses alight, and I stutter over a protest, my eyes darting back to her face. The veil of stalwart and severe commander has fallen swiftly from her face, her eyes softened to two molten, shimmering pools, jaw set against a tremble.

 

“You weren't going to listen to me unless I forced you, and I'm sorry for that.” She whispers, her fingers wrapping around my wrists into order to drag me into the seat in front of her desk.

 

I comply in bewilderment as she sinks down to her knees in front of me. The image reminds me far too much of that night inside her apartment when she begged me for forgiveness, and I can hardly bear the thought of that pain.

 

“I wanted you to give you space. I wanted to give you however much time you needed.” She insists, sincerely, reaching up to touch my jaw as her eyes search mine. “But three days? Sweetheart, we can't go on like this. _You_ can't go on like this.”

 

Her words hit me hard, drowning out the pulsing anger in my chest, and I struggle to respond, my lips releasing silent motions of uncertainty. There's tears welling in my eyes because she's guided me towards release in this manner so many times before. I've learned to accept the brutality of my emotions, but it's unnerving to realize now that I simply can't do it on my own. I've come to rely on the safety of her presence, but this time I am afraid. She's caught me hundreds of times, but the single time she didn't is burned into my mind, a blaring red flag warning me to not to jump.

 

“I know you're afraid. I know you're doing this to protect yourself.” She whispers as though she has read my thoughts, and her palm settles against my cheek in a familiar caress. “And most of all I know that I have let you down, but, please, my sweet girl, you must be in pain, and I can not stand to watch you suffer.”

 

Her voice ends in a low, choked tone, and through the tears blurring my gaze I can see the ones welling in her own eyes. My heart dully aches at her impassioned reasoning, and the simple, soothing scenario of collapsing into her arms is almost enough incentive for me to do so. Instead, I hunch over my knees, nodding slowly as I squeeze my eyes shut against burning tears. I can feel the wave of emotion bubbling up my throat, swelling so quickly that I cannot quell the tide.

 

I collapse into a hunched position, covering my face with my hands to hide from her the extent of my pain as the tear gush quickly down my cheeks, relieved to be free of me; but she knows me far too well. She has me etched into the palm of her hand, and to hide anything from her would be impossible.

 

“I know, I know.” She murmurs, pulling my head down to her mouth where she kisses my crown, slow and soft. “And I know you're used to me helping you through things like this…But I need you to be strong right now, honey. I need you to be strong and let this all out.”

 

Her hand slips from my cheek and to the open buttons of my shirt as she whispers, “All of this anger can't stay in here, baby.”

 

Pressing her hand beneath the material, she cradles the pounding of my heart, and I quiver at the raw intimacy that I have been lacking for seventy two long hours, both physically and emotionally. I prayed for this unadulterated connection this morning upon waking alone, and I can feel my defense crumbling beneath the sudden, bursting emotion.

 

Sinking down against her shoulder, I rock into her body. In spite of my fear, I cannot deny the safety of her embrace, nor the comfort that her soft assurances bring me, and she doesn't fail, even now, as she cradles me. She gently kisses my temple as I shudder and whimper into her neck, releasing three day's worth of pain and frustration across her flesh.

 

She resolutely withstands every moment of my desolate sobs though I know it must pain her, knowing that her own misjudgement has led us here. There's no more excuses or explanations. She let's me rain down upon her in that safe place that I have so longed for.

 

She's here again, my protector, and with relief, I realize that I want a path to forgiveness, and that I always did.

 

  **xxxxxx**

 

  _Three Days Later_

 

_Olivia_

 

It's the tenth time I've found myself staring off into space, my pen unintentionally pressing a thick glob of ink into the middle of the sentence I was writing as a lost myself to my own rambling thoughts.

 

She hasn't left my mind since that night three days ago, and her presence there persists still with even more discomfort. I have made the progress that I set out to accomplish, and it is a fresh distraction that clings to my every thought with insistent fingers.

 

We agreed not to move too quickly. I understand that the past week has been incredibly stressful to her and the last thing I want is to put undue pressure on her.

 

 _What are we going to do now?_ She’d asked me, lifting her head from my shoulder as tears still glistened in her eyes.

 

I told her we’d take our time. I assured her that there was no pressure, and while the last thing I want is to rush her into a rash decision, I can hardly take each tick of the clock. Not a moment goes by that I do not wish to go to her, and beg her to do _something_  to me. Anything. Everything.

 

But I have swallowed back every desire, biding each hour of the day with a burgeoning discomfort in my mind. There's a heaviness in my stomach, a weight of need, that I can't escape, and it has only grown.

 

Watching her each day, just beyond the reach of my fingertips, is a certain, sharp blade of agony penetrating me through and through, over and over again. She slips through the squad room, uncharacteristically quiet, almost as though she ignores me. But then our eyes will meet across the room or our fingers will touch by accident, and I can feel her cerulean gaze eating into me until her teeth are buried in that deep seated desire.

 

And, God, I want her to tear me apart.

 

I’ve sequestered myself in the office today, unable to face the outside world with a brave, unflinching face. Though there is much work to be done before me, my mind, unlike my body, wanders beyond the walls of this room, to a place where she and I are alone.

 

My mind conjures scenarios and scenes behind my eyes with every possibility of how she will punish me. I’ve put her in many positions, and my brain cycles through every one, agonizing over which one she will choose to spread me out before her. A flush spreads over my cheeks at each new image, and I try desperately to set my mind to my work, only to find myself lost again in the next minute.

 

She hasn't even expressed a desire to punish me. Yet, I tell myself. I held back the resolution from my tongue, reminding myself of the last time I offered myself to her, telling myself that she is tender and fragile. She's always surrendered to me, and I've failed her. Though I want nothing more than to find an end to this, I want her to lead when she is ready.

 

I know how hard it is to have this role thrust upon me, but I hadn't realized before now how truly deep her need for me went - at least, not at this personal of a level. Looking from the inside out, instead of from the outside in, is an illuminating, surreal experience, a humbling one to say the least.

 

I bite my lip, realizing that my mind has wandered again. I shift in my chair, crossing my legs against the dull throb resting between them, and I glare down at the paperwork before me.

 

A lieutenant of the NYPD doesn't squirm, I've told myself half a dozen times, but I don't belong to the NYPD right now. I belong to her, every fiber of blood, every skin cell, every racing beat of my heart, and I cannot pretend to desire otherwise.

 

A quick knock on the door which rattles the blinds against the windowpane startles me from half focused reverie, and I lift my head to catch sight of whichever subordinate has interrupted my solace. I’m ready to rearrange my face into the calm, unflustered one that they are accustomed to seeing, but my facade falls to even further ruin when I glimpse Amanda just beyond the blinds. I can see the nervous energy working its way through her fidgeting fingers and stance even from this distance, and my throat dries as I wonder what has been passing through her mind behind those guarded, blue eyes.

 

I clear my throat, swiping my tongue over my barren palate, and call out for her to come in. I perform the command without a stutter, but my heart is chugging heavily against my ribs. I can feel every throb churning my insides to a white hot froth.

 

She steps inside, glancing behind herself as she takes her time closing the door and latching it. I can see the frown tugging at her brow, and the way she picks at her thumb nail with her free hand.

 

“Amanda, what can I do for you?” I ask, forcing an even tone.

 

The questions I truly want to ask fight in the back of my throat. _What do you need? Are you okay? What’s on your mind? What are you thinking?_

 

She turns toward me slowly, her lips pursed as she stays rooted in front of the door. I can see the hesitance and conflict streaming down her face, the way her tears do when she shatters beneath my hands. Her emotions have always been a volatile stimulant to our complex relationship, and it doesn’t fail me now, even when the gap between us is bridged by misunderstanding and hurt feelings.

 

“You can sit down, sweetie.” I murmur, nodding towards the chair when she hovers silently.

 

Ducking her head, she pushes away from the door, advancing with apparent uncertainty. Finally, she eases down in front of me, and I have to swallow again because the details of her beautiful face have come into focus now that she is close to me. I have to wrestle with every urge to leave my seat, and drop to my knees in front of her, beg for forgiveness all over again.

 

I hear her clear her throat, and she glances up at me, her soft, blonde eyebrows knitting above swimming, blue orbs.

 

“I want to see you.” She finally whispers, her voice husky, and she raises a shoulder as though it’s unimportant.

 

It’s far from unimportant. No, for a moment, it’s all I hear, repeating in my head over and over again.

 

“I….” I struggle to speak past the shock and excitement filling my chest. “I want to see you too.”

 

“I need you to listen to me.” She continues, her voice gaining strength despite the frail tremble I can hear lacing her tone. She glances down at her hands for a moment, and I can see her gathering her courage. Finally, she lifts her head, pinning me with a determined gaze.

 

“I need you to be quiet.” She says, firmly, her eyes narrowing, “I need you to listen to me without question.”

 

I nod quickly, hardly able to breathe at her sharp commands, ones that I am more than willing to follow without question.

 

“I won’t say a word.” I whisper, nodding as inexplicable tears of relief burn at my lids.

 

“Tonight?” She replies, carefully. “Will you come see me?”

 

“Whatever you want.” I vow with as much conviction as I can thread into my voice.

 

She chews her lower lip for a moment, watching me as though doesn’t quite believe my quick submission to her orders, and I wish I could explode with the thoughts that have been running through my mind. I want to confess to her every single one, but this isn’t about me or what I want. I’ve promised not to speak over her, and I will keep that promise even if I have to spend tonight in wordless agony. She’s finally told me what she needs from me, and I’m going to give it to her, no matter the consequences.

 

  **xxxxxxxx**

 

Rushing up the sidewalk to Amanda’s apartment building, my heart is already pounding in my chest. A cold sweat has taken over my palms, and I feel more unnerved than I ever have. I like to have control of my life, of what I do, and where I go. Losing every sense of that has left me reeling. Right now, there’s nothing I want more than to get inside, and fling myself before her. The foreign desire has taken hold of me, stripping me of independence and resistance.

 

As I reach the front door of her building, I find myself trembling, wondering if this is how she feels every time I call her my own dwelling. I wonder if she feels this gnawing dread of knowing exactly what will happen once I’m inside, the apprehension of her disappointment and the punishment that awaits me….

 

I swallow hard as I stare at the numbers listed next to the door. I lift an uncertain hand to press the button for her apartment, and the first moment of hesitance grips me. Our conversation was short, filled with little detail of what will occur in only a few minutes, but I am certain of my Fate. I saw the look in her eyes, and her tone of voice has left little to wonder at.

 

I release a heavy, quavering breath, and I squeeze my eyes shut before forcing myself to press the button. The door begins to buzz, and I send one quick prayer before grabbing the handle. I stride inside, determined to meet her with a willing, obedient spirit. I owe her that much.

 

Jogging up the stairs, I find my way to her apartment. My pace slows as the sight of her door fills me with another rush of twisted desire and arousal.

 

“Jesus, _fuck._ ” I whisper through clenched teeth as my groin clenches, slow and agonizing.

 

I hover in the hallway for a long moment, my hands balled into fists at my side. Finally, I manage to uproot my feet, and as I reach the door, I can feel myself quaking from head to toe. My fist is weak as I lift it to knock, two quick raps. I wait, my ears straining for the sound of her footsteps or voice.

 

“It’s open.” Her words reach through the door, and I press my eyes shut as my stomach clenches again.

 

I’ve made her open to the door to her own doom many times. Called her into the bedroom, and watched with an unflinching gaze as she strips her pants off and leans over the bed. I’ve made her lie there, wait in agonizing silence, until I deem fit. I’ve punished her dozens of ways, and all I can think of now is which method she will use to torture me with.

 

Opening my eyes, I muster the courage to grab the doorknob and turn it. The metal handle is cold against my sweating palm, and I struggle to twist it for a moment before it finally releases. The door swings in with a slow creak, and I can scarcely breathe as the room yawns before me.

 

She’s there in the middle of the living room, leaned back in a chair that she has pulled from the kitchen table. I know what the chair means, and my stomach swan dives as I stand mute in the doorway, taking in the sight of her black oxford sleeves rolled up her pale arms, her spread legs, and planted feet, her eyes burning into me an unnatural arousal. I want to crumple to the floor as my eyes follow her fingers down to the paddle clutched in her fingers.

 

I can feel my fingers clenching hard around the doorknob, hard enough to pinch my flesh, but for a moment, I can’t move. I can’t even meet her that damning gaze.

 

“Come here.” She murmurs, softly, canting her head towards the living room.

 

I swallow, my heart racing with forceful dread in my chest. My throat is tight as I manage to uncurl my fingers from the doorknob and step inside. I feel uncoordinated as I shut the door behind myself, and turn the locks into place, but I try to stem the tremble taking over my body. Turning towards her, I clench my hands into fists, holding back the impetuous tears that rise in my eyes.

 

“Come here, Olivia.” She repeats, motioning towards the floor between her spread thighs.

 

I gather my strength, using every ounce of courage that I posses to walk across the room. She doesn’t need to tell me to kneel in front of her, but as I come to stand in front of her, I balk. She’s going to have to tell me, and I press my eyes shut as disappointment in myself rushes through me. I swore to myself before arriving here that I’d give her my all without hesitation, but going through the motions of submission is harder than I anticipated.

 

I open my eyes when I feel her fingers at my wrist. They’re gentle and persuasive, and I hesitantly find her gaze. My vision is blurry, but I can see her staring up at me, eyes wide and open as the sky. There’s no anger, only determination and desire.

 

“If we’re going to do this, you have to trust me.” She whispers, her fingers sliding down into my palm.

 

I clench my quivering fingers around hers, catching onto them like a lifeline that I don’t want to let go of. I told her that I wanted to trust her fully and completely, and god, how I want to. But I have taken Amanda through every step and process of unwavering trust, and I know the vulnerability that it requires. I’ve spent the past three days focused on the physical punishment, but standing here in front of her, I’m seized by the emotional openness that this night is going to entail.

 

“Liv.” She murmurs, dragging my eyes open once more. “I want you to know I’m just as scared you, but I know I have to do this. I know you need it. Please, let me do this for us.”

 

I stare down at her sincere, passionate expression, and her words push another wave of tears to the surface. I’ve never trusted someone so implicitly before, never even wanted to. It’s almost impossible now to want to accept the safety of her words and promises, yet somehow, I do.

 

“Okay….” I whisper, thickly, squeezing her hand harder.

 

“Okay.” She echoes, her thumb rubbing over the back of my hand in calming circles. “You’re going to kneel in front of me, okay?”

 

I press my eyes shut, nodding once more. I can’t look at her, afraid to watch her viewing my vulnerability. I duck my head, sinking down in front of her, slowly at first. I feel the carpet beneath my knees, and slump quickly into her lap, burying my face against her leg as a burn of her humiliation rises to my cheeks.

 

I want to begin sobbing how sorry I am, how much I’ve left her down, how unworthy I am, but I choke back every word. It’s her turn to speak, and be heard without interruption or excuse from me. I promised I’d bear her disappointment in silence, and I intend to give her everything she desires.

 

I feel her hand settle at the back of my head, a gentle, reassuring touch that I focus on as I wait for her speak or act.

 

“Before anything, I love you.” She murmurs at last. “I love you so much that I can’t even explain it. I’ve never, ever felt this way before. I want you to realize that. That this is it for me. _You_ … are it for me.”

 

I bite down hard on my lip, holding back the sobs that immediately want to slip past my teeth. I dig my fingers into her leg, holding on tightly as the intensity of her words slice through my heart. My first instinct is to burst out that I love her just the same, that I never meant to hurt her, but I can’t. I can’t say anything, nor justify my harmful actions. All I can do is nod, smearing tears into her pant leg.

 

“You always say that I have to trust you, and you’ve never given me a reason not to, but I also want you to understand how hard that is. It’s fucking hard, Liv, and it’s a struggle every day not to clam back up because I’ve been hurt a lot. Maybe, more than I’ve told you. I’m used to my pain being ignored, to being disbelieved, to being punished for things that I can’t control - but not from you… Because I trust you.”

 

A cry bubbles up in my throat, and rock into her leg, gagging back my misery against her the material of her pants and the softness of her flesh beneath. I can barely stop myself from cutting in, explaining that I was wrong, begging her to believe me when I say I didn’t know I was misled about the tape - but none of it matters. No amount of explaining will wipe away the hurt I’ve caused, and all I can do is accept the blame without complaint. It hurts more than I thought it could, and my heart aches with each and every word she speaks.

 

“I just want you to realize that it wasn’t the spanking that hurt the most. It was the fact that you didn't believe me. You thought the worst of me, and you never even questioned that.”

 

I drag my face once more against her leg, panting heavily as I try to reign in the sharp emotions tearing through my chest.

 

“I didn’t even know how I was going to forgive you for a couple of days.” She murmured. “I didn’t know how, but I’m trying because I… I don’t think I can live without you…”

 

Her confession ends in a bare whisper, and I want to tell her that after the past week I’d do anything to fix this because in the end I feel the same. Life without her seems dull, hopeless, and empty, and somehow, her brutal truth has soothed my fear. She’s just as afraid and vulnerable as I am, and I want more than anything to earn back her trust.

 

I lift my head slowly, and her fingers slide across my tear stained cheek and down beneath my jaw. I hesitantly meet her gaze, and she takes in my watery eyes and flushed, puffy face without judgment or disdain. Her thumb dances below my lid, swiping away a tear, and I press my eyes shut, savoring her gentle touch. I feel her bend in close to me, and the ends of hair tickle my cheeks as her lips press against my forehead, poising there for a long moment.  
  


“I need you to take off your pants.” She murmurs at last against my flesh.

 

I feel a tremble go through my body, and I squeeze her leg harder in my grasp, desperately wanting to bury myself in chest, but I cannot escape this punishment. I cannot turn my back on her again. I have no right to be her caretaker if I cannot follow through with this night, and that is a future that I can hardly bear to think of.

 

I made a promise, and this time, I intend to keep it.


	4. Chapter 4

_Olivia_

My hands are trembling as I try to find the button and zipper of my pants. Her eyes are upon me and my heart is fluttering in my chest, anticipation and apprehension swirling in my stomach. Finally, I manage to grasp the tiny zipper, and listen to the hiss as it releases. I slide the material from my hips, and the first barrier between my flesh and the paddle crumples to my knees. A flush rushes to my cheeks, and I wish I could crumple too.

Her fingers slip from my cheek to the back of my neck, and she pulls me forward. I comply quickly with her motions, eager to hide in the warmth of her lap once more. I feel her hand move to my arm, and she guides my wrist up between my shoulder blades. My breath is rushing heavily between my lips as her legs close around my thighs, holding me firmly in place against her lap.

"Breathe, Olivia." She murmurs as her hand slides down my spine, tracing a path to the edge of my panties.

I squeeze my eyes shut, and try to follow her orders. I know the techniques, the proper way to get efficient air to my lungs in a high stress situation, but I can hardly think, much less follow a logical thought process.

I gasp softly as her fingers reach my backside, swirling in circles over my thinly veiled flesh. My nerve endings already feel on fire, reacting explosively to every small touch. It's hard not to squirm at the even the softest caress because I know what comes next - the crack of the paddle breaking my flesh, then pain, pain I've never known.

I feel her fingers dip beneath the waistband of my underwear, and my heart kicks up another notch. Her touch is reverent as always, but the dynamics of this interaction are so opposite to everything I've come to associate these actions with that I am left scrambling and uncertain.

My body flushes with that intoxicating mixture of dread and arousal as she tugs my panties down to my thighs, leaving only what flesh she will punish naked and exposed, and a whimper wells in my throat. I try to fight every urge to hide from her scorching gaze, but I find myself cowering down between her legs, my thighs clenching together for some shred of protection.

"Stop moving." She murmurs, a soft command that causes my stomach to clench.

I sink against her, turning my face into her side as my whole body throbs with humiliation, and confusing excitement. My groin is thrumming, and I can feel my swollen parts aching with hot wetness. An aching need resides there, unflinching to my fear and uncertainty, and I wonder again if this is how she feels, laid against my lap, bent over my bed, kneeling before me. She  _must._

I feel her arm press against my back, and I squeeze my eyes shut, knowing that it will come soon, the punishment I have deserved for many, many days. The culminated guilt and desire tear through my body, fighting against my instincts to escape this degrading experience.

"You said that night when you asked for my forgiveness that you'd take the rest of what was meant for me and whatever else I deem fit." She murmurs, a request to give me exactly what I have begged for only a week ago.

My hasty offering seems insurmountable now in the face of certain pain, and I can only nod slowly into her body, my throat tightening as I remember how many lashings I intended to give her. Trepidation seizes my body at the prospect of lying across her legs for twenty, agonizing spankings, if not more. 'Whatever else she sees fit' could mean any number in the universe. It could mean five. It could mean ten or twenty or thirty…

 _God, please…._  The plea runs through my mind, my heart fluttering in quick, shallow beats against my ribs.

I press my lips together hard, holding back every cry for mercy that would leap to my tongue. I am in no position to negotiate, even here in the submission of her lap, and I remind myself again that I promised my silence and cooperation.

"It's going to be a lot, Liv." She murmurs, piercing me through with forceful apprehension. "If you want to stop, just say your safeword, okay?"

I nod once more, a short, ragged motion as my throat tightens with tears. I've been through pain much worse than I know this will be, but it's not simply the spanking that I have to endure. It's also my guilt and the pain I have caused her. I'm going to be forced to contemplate my exact choices for the long minutes it will take to complete my penance, and though I have already spent the past week drowning in regret, another quarter or half of an hour is almost more than I can bear to think of.

"Okay…" She whispers, almost too soft to hear, but I can sense the slightest hesitation in her tone.

I know I could take advantage of her uncertainty. Her fear is no doubt as brutal as mine at this unexpected role reversal, but I refuse to manipulate her to save my own skin. I'd be a coward, and no example to her as her caretaker. I've promised myself and her to submit until she is satisfied. I must do this, and bowing me head, I wait for her to commence the discipline upon my naked backside.

I hear her release a thready breath, and her fingers tighten against my hip. My stomach turns over, and I can hear myself breathing heavily through my nose as I feel the smooth surface of the paddle touch my flesh. I clench my eyes shut, my body rigid as she lines up the length of the tool against my waiting buttocks.

The half second between her drawing back the paddle and first strike coming down is barely discernible. Then the crack of smooth grained wood against skin shatters the silence, and a cry bursts unchecked from my mouth. I'm lunging against her leg, gasping as sharp, tingling pain washes over me, burning deep into layers of flesh. Trembling, I can barely control the tears springing to my eyes as I grapple with the new, fresh sensation.

I feel her adjust her grip on my midsection, and quick gasps rush to my mouth right before the paddle comes down again, harder than the first. My body seizes against her, but she's learned quickly how to hold me in place. She doesn't hesitate, striking me a third time, then a fourth, and a fifth, each one brutal in their singularity. Coupled together I can hardly stand the pain, the humiliation, and her disappointment.

Curling into her side, my body shrinks into her lap. I'm not trying to escape, but for a moment I can't take the emotions and the sensations overcoming my being.

"Liv." She murmurs, her fingers loosening from my hip in order to rub over my back.

I've slipped down between her legs again, and I bury my face in her stomach, silent in shock and embarrassment. The tears burn against my lids, but I can't release a sound as I struggle to grasp what is happening to my body. In the back of my mind, I know that leaving her intended positioning of me is unacceptable, but I don't feel in control. I'm falling apart, and I've hardly taken five of the two dozen that are about to befall me.

"Do you need a moment?" She whispers, bending down to kiss the top of my head, so gentle that I know I don't deserve her kindness.

I nod into her stomach, grabbing at the material of her shirt as I muffle my cries into her stomach.

"Shhh, it's okay." She murmurs, petting my hair with a soothing hand.

Digging my forehead into her soft belly, I feel utterly disappointed with myself. I expect so much of her when our positions are switched, but now that I'm the one taking the punishment, I have withered in only moments.

Pulling back slowly, I drag my hands over my cheeks. I can't meet her eyes. I'm ashamed and frustrated by my lack of performance. I'd decided upon going down this path that I would receive what was due to me without complaint or hesitation, and now I feel like an utter failure.

"I'm sorry." I whisper, my voice cracking as I speak for the first time since entering the apartment.

My hands are clasped over my face, and the urge to dissolve into a mess of distraught tears again is strong. I don't want to put on her more than she can handle. She's already gone above and beyond what any submissive should ever have to do, and I would compact that further by being unwilling and contrary?

"Fuck." I whisper into my palms, my head spinning with expectations and self loathing.

"Liv." Her soft voice breaks through my inner scolding and I feel her touch my hand.

I don't want to look at her, but her fingers wrap around my wrist, and she leans in close to me as my hands slip away. Pressing her forehead against mine, she tangles her fingers in hair, cradling me close to her.

"I'm not mad at you." She whispers. "I know how hard this is."

"But-" I cut in, ready to decimate myself in front of her if it will in any way make up for my lack of obedience.

"Hush." She cuts me off, her tone leaving no room for argument, and I silence, pressing my lips together. "Stop beating yourself up. I'm going to take care you."

Her murmur ends with her lips pressing against my tear stained cheek, and I turn my face into her touch. I'm shivering. Her words seep into the cracks in my heart, spilling warmth across the whole of my existence. I want so badly to trust her, to come undone beneath her in perfect compliance, but nothing about this week has been perfect. She is not perfect. I am not perfect, a fact I must accept should I have any hope at all of making it through this night.

"Okay." I whimper, acquiescing to her orders with hardly a fight.

"Good." She whispers, giving me one last kiss before she leans back, and pats her leg.

I swallow hard, still ducking away from her gaze as I quietly bend back over her knee. Tucking me back beneath her arm, she spreads her fingers back over my hip, and I quiver at her caress.

"I'm not going to stop this time until you say the safe word." She tells me, and I nod pitifully once more.

She knows the thoughts running through my head, and she's going to take away my choice to resist and hide from the punishment. Some part of me trembles in relief that she's decided to guide me towards the stricter rules of our relationship because so far guiding myself has been a gargantuan failure. I've lost control of myself, and all I can do is surrender to her.

Sucking my lower lip into my mouth, I hold back every whimper that rises to my tongue as I feel her shift against me, the weight of her forearm holding me down. I press my eyes shut over lingering tears, tensely waiting. Each second seems agonizing, and I draw a halting breath when I feel the surface of the paddle tap slowly against my burning flesh. Ducking my head, I prematurely stiffen right before the paddle comes down.

"Nngghhh…" I moan, jerking forward against her leg as the pain stings intensely without relief for several brutal seconds.

My flesh has hardly calmed before she strikes me again, hard and calculating. Writhing beneath her arm, I feel crushed again by the reality of this moments, and all the reasons why I'm here. Another sharp rush of tears fill my eyes, and I sink against her body, praying I can find some way to accept the pain and the necessity of it.

Her fingers gently squeeze my side, the slightest reassurance that I can focus on before the next spanking.

"Hold on." She whispers to me, plunging dread into my stomach because she said she wouldn't stop this time.

The paddling that comes in the next second is harsh and unforgiving, taking the breath from my lungs. I'm frozen against her leg as she draws back for what seems like only a millisecond before the lick of the wood greets my backside again. My bodies seizes involuntarily, but she doesn't let me slip away this time. Her toned thighs tighten around my legs, and her elbow presses almost painfully into my back as she whips me again, then again, and again. The pain grows white hot as she layers the lashes on top of each other one after another.

 _Crack. Crack. Crack._  The sound of her shattering my tender flesh rings in my ears, and I convulse with each one, but the arching and dipping of my hips is futile against her iron grip.

I can hear her panting, her body hot and slick with perspiration against me. I intimately know the tremble which captures her now, but until this moment I've known nothing of submission, nor of the aching need which accompanies this humbling act. And I can hardly bear it.

I've lost count of the spankings, consumed by the fiery pain which burns me down to my bones, when I can't take it anymore. My safeword -  _Apple_  - is so simple, and I want terribly to cry it out, my tongue feels tied up in humiliation because I have failed already. I've failed to believe her, failed to brave my way through punishment, failed to accept this position as submissive.

Vexed with myself and overwrought with pain, I cry out a guttural sound from my throat, lunging against her leg hard enough to nearly dislodge her grip.

"Olivia." The sound of my name uttered sharply, with an unquestionable warning, strikes me through with the horrifying realization that I have disrespected her yet again.

Shame crawls across my cheeks in a quick flush, and I cower against her, swallowing back any whimpers that would emit from my trembling lips. She's silent for a moment, but I can feel her eyes drilling into the back of my head as though she waits for some explanation, and I sink further into her, mortified by my own inexcusable behavior, the kind I would never accept from her.

"Come here." She orders, suddenly, taking my arm in an unwavering grip.

She pulls me off her lap again, and I crumble between her thighs, my stomach aching with apprehension. She has been more than lenient with my unsatisfactory performance so far, and I more than deserve her stern tone, perhaps, even further punishment, but it's so hard to hear her gentle tone grow rigid with disappointment. Never have I even contemplated the position we are in now, and I am struggling to accept my need for this, much less my desire.

"Liv…." She whispers, leaning her face down next to mine. "Look at me."

I don't move, staring at the tilting, blurry floor resolutely. I know it's disrespectful to disregard this command. Looking into her eyes when she speaks to me is a sign of my submission. I have taught her this many times, but I can hardly stand to lift my face, to have her see the absolute mess I have become. What will she think of me when this is over? When I take my place above her as her caretaker, both of us knowing I could not even once stand in her shoes?

Her fingers seize my chin, and I swallow back trembling cries as she tilts my jaw upwards. I close my eyes against the harsh burn of tears as I feel her gaze cover my distraught expression.

"Open your eyes." She orders, quietly.

Her tone has softened, and feel unworthy all over again. If I had been in her place, I might have told her to get her face on the floor. She'd have lost the right to be in my lap… but still she gives me another chance.

"I'm sorry." I moan once more, my jaw sinking against her hand as I try to pull away.

"Liv, you're not remembering your safe word." She insists, her voice full of commiseration as she pulls me into her chest.

I sink against her breast, emotion quickly rushing to my lips. I know I am far from deserving of her gentleness and mercy, but I do not have the fortitude to deny it. Forgetting protocol, I reach up to grab onto her, holding her small figure as though it will be our last time together. She sighs, softly, her hand at the back of my head.

"Shhh…" She murmurs, rocking me slowly. "It's not the end of the world, baby, I promise."

I sob into her, my cheek pressed against the softness of her breast, and I wish I could find my way beneath her clothing until our flesh is pressed together without boundaries or obstacles. I feel like a little child being rocked and coddled, needy for skin to skin contact; and I don't know whether to accept or reject that concept.

We stay there for a long minute, until my cries dwindle into the nothing and the pain in my backside has dulled to a low throb. She holds me without hesitation, and I feel like a disgrace all over again. Had Amanda been kneeling here, I know she would've fallen beautifully to pieces in my hands, bowed against my thighs until I brought her to the perfect point of release. Meanwhile, I can hardly accept the label of submissive, even for one night...

Finally, I shift, drawing back just enough to hesitantly glance up at her. She meets my gaze with her own conflicted one, her brows drawn, a shimmer in the blue landscape of her eyes, and I know what she's thinking.

_Where do I go from here?_

_How do I do the best thing for both of us?_

_I don't want to hurt her._

I know because I have thought the same thing many times when the line between the necessity of punishment and the urge to protect blur and dissolve into the tears cascading down her cheeks. It's always a careful balance, one misstep away from plunging us to ruin. And I have misstepped, enormously, egregiously. I cannot let my own weakness sway her.

 _I have to get through this_. The resolution burns through my brain and body, and a reach up a trembling hand to gently touch her cheek. I know what I have to do.

"I need you to get out of the chair." I whisper, my voice broken and raspy with violently shed tears.

Her brow wrinkles with confusion, and she blinks quickly as the meaning of the request settles in her mind.

"You don't want me to hold you?" She murmurs, hesitantly.

I purse my lips together against another rush of tears, and I slide my hand down her arm to where her fingers still grasp the paddle. I close my hand around hers in a firm grip, pressing strength from my palm to hers.

"Of course I want you to." I whisper, hardly able to look up at her as the emotion swims in my eyes. "But you can't coddle me right now, Amanda, do you understand?"

She's quiet for a moment, and I can sense the apprehension holding her body tense. I wonder again if I have put too much before her, and that I have not properly equipped her for this situation. I would've liked to have decided on this course of action together rather than crashing and burning towards the path of resolution, but when I stepped inside this apartment, I could not resist her. I could not say no, and I did not want to.

"Are you sure?" She asks at last, her fingers trailing up my arm.

Inhaling heavily, I nod quickly, finally flicking her a determined gaze.

"Yes. I'm sure."

Her frown deepens, and though I more than understand her point of view, I still feel as though I have responsibility to lead this night in the most efficient direction.

"Amanda," I whisper, squeezing her hand harder. "I know you want me to feel safe, but your body...it's a temptation to me."

I can see the understanding winding through her gaze, and she chews the inner flesh of her lip slowly as she glances down at my hand covering hers.

"You need to focus on the punishment." She whispers at last.

I nod slowly, rubbing my thumb over hers where it's clutched against the curve of the handle. The feeling of the wood skimming my flesh causes the slightest tremble to go through me. Glancing up at her, I catch the renewed determination glistening in her blue eyes, and some sense of relief goes through me that she has not given up.

She hesitates for a moment before she begins to stand from the chair. I sink back as she rises above me, my heart racing quickly with fresh arousal. It's the smallest I have ever been in front of her, and a soft whimper rises in my throat as she steps to the side of the chair, and motions towards the vacated seat.

"Bend over the chair." She orders, her tone firm, her pale, arctic gaze searing into me.

I swallow hard over the saliva that has gathered on my tongue, and I grab the chair with quivering hands. Pulling myself against the seat, I press my forehead to the wood. It's still warm from her body, the scent of her lingers, and I clench my fingers hard around the rungs as I breathe out a trembling breath. I arch back slowly, offering myself to her as openly as I can. My body is throbbing, my flesh stinging, and I can feel the end is near.

"Think about how you're feeling." Amanda murmurs. "Think about how bad your ass hurts right now."

I whimper quietly, tilting my forehead into the chair as her words draw the ache in my buttocks to the forefront of my brain. I told her I needed to focus on the punishment, and she's making sure that's exactly what I'm doing. I squirm, clenching my thighs as I remember each strike of the paddle against my flesh and the resounding crack of it in my ears.

"Are you thinking about it?" She asks, and I feel her fingers brush my shoulder, trailing towards my back.

A shiver washes over my spine and up towards my skull, and I nod quickly, clenching my teeth against further moans.

"Tell me out loud…. How do you feel?" She orders, and I feel her squatting down next to me as her fingers slip down my back to my ass.

I whimper as her fingers knead into my tender, bruised flesh, and I nearly arch away from her. Squeezing the runs of the chair hard, I force myself to remain still beneath her touch, and follow her every order.

"I…" I whisper, my voice husky, and trembling. "I feel humiliated...It hurts… It feels like it will never stop…"

"Mmmm…" She hums in agreement. "Now, imagine I was doing this to you for no reason. Because I thought you did something that you didn't do…"

"Amanda…" I groan, digging my face into the chair as quick rush of tears fill my eyes, followed by harsh guilt in my chest.

"Hush." She orders. "I didn't say you could answer."

I button my lips tightly over my tongue despite my every urge to explode into another string of apologies. She already knows I'm sorry, but the purpose of this punishment and it's accompanying dialogue is to ensure that I will remember my mistake. I'm already certain I will not be so quick to pass judgment should an incident such as this ever occur again, and that realization brings a sense of relief to my body. The feeling of futility that gripped me earlier begins to fade beneath the hope that she will successfully guide us to forgiveness and recompense.

"Are you ready to accept the rest of your punishment?" She asks, softly, as her hand glides up my back.

"Yes." I rasp, hardly able to speak as her palm finds its place at the dip of my spine.

This tumultuous respite has passed, and soon there will be no more relief for my punished flesh. I can either trust her or fail her. God, give me the strength to give her what she wants, and what I so desperately need. I'm going to fall apart, and when I do I have to trust that she's going to catch me. All I have to do is let go.


	5. Chapter 5

_Amanda_

From my position behind her I can see everything. She's stretched out over the chair, pants and underwear tangled in a mess around her knees and ankles, so unlike her. She's usually so put together and composed, but now her shirt is riding up her back, the swell of her hips inviting as they curve down to her backside. The damage I've done is raw and apparent in flushes of dark red and pink, and with the paddle still gripped in my sweating palm, I know it will only get worse.

I still feel choked by my own heartbeat, the rampant chugging of it pulsing through my entire body, but a strange assurance has taken over my body. The fearful tremors have smoothed out, and I'm gliding along the rhythm of the punishment with an ease I cannot question. Arousal and fulfillment grip me now, exacerbated by each crack of the wood against her willing flesh.

I feel no anger, no petty satisfaction, as I force her think about the way she unjustly punished me - only faith that when this ends we'll find each other as we always have. The anticipation of pressing her body to my bed beneath me holds my body on a tenuous thread of self control. I want to plunge into her as I look in her eyes, and fuck her slow and hard until she knows that I forgive her, that I love her more than anything else in the damn world. She's given me such a satisfying redemption more times than I can count, and I want nothing more than to treat her with as much care and passion.

My palm is at her back now, and she knows the paddle will find her flesh again soon. I can see the anticipation in the way her hips squirm, her thighs squeezing and clenching, but she can't hide from me. She's laid bare before my eyes, her pussy flushed and engorged, her arousal twinkling at the parting of her swollen lips. It's hard not to reach out and touch her there immediately, plunging my fingers into her so that she gasps and writhes.

 _Soon._  I tell myself, closing my eyes for half a moment.

When I open them, I bring the paddle to bear, flexing my fingers around the ergonomic handle. Placing the flat of the head against her ass, I pat her softly, but even the barest of touches is a fire to her aching body. She sucks in a sharp breath, her hips ducking inwards.

"Relax." I urge in a quiet murmur, stroking my fingers over her tailbone.

I want her plush cheeks spread out and accepting when I strike her again, and finally, her back sinks back into the arched position at my demand. I can feel her quiver beneath me, and her fingers are taut around the rungs of the chair, knuckles white with the intensity of her grip.

I tap the paddle against her slowly again, and this time, she only hitches a quick breath, pleasing me with her obedience. I bite my lip as the slow burn of pleasure goes through me, following my the sting of anticipation as I draw back my arm.

 _Crack._  I swing, connecting the wood with the lower portion her right buttock.

"Ohhh…" She cries out, her voice trembling as she surges into the chair.

Her ass is clenched tight against the pain for a long moment, and I hesitate to punish her again so quickly. She wanted a deliberate discipline, a focus on the physical pain and humiliation of the spanking, and I've promised myself to give it to her though my restraint holds on with slipping fingertips.

She slips back down, her face ducking into the chair as she urges her hips back towards me. A swell of pleasure rises inside me at her eagerness, and I slide my hand up to the middle of her back, defining the arch her spine. She trembles beneath me, and I give her another lashing, applying a further measure of strength to the blow. A shock of red bursts across her flesh, and she lunges beneath me, releasing a ragged cry.

"Sh, sh…" I murmur to her as her sides heave with gasps beneath my palm.

I let her ride the wave of pain until she sags, and I slip in closer to her, winding my arm around her waist. We still have a dozen more spankings left, and I want her to feel the steadiness of my body, even if I can't cradle her as we began.

"I've got you." I whisper, spreading my fingers over her quivering belly.

She nods slowly against the chair, her hair shifting about her face in copper waves.

"Good girl." I praise her, softly, knowing the satisfaction that it brings me when she does so.

I'm unconcerned with her struggles to accept the punishment, physically and mentally. She may hold herself to a certain standard of perfection, but I know better. I know how fucking hard it is to kneel and accept what is happening, and all I care about is the fact that she is here at all. All I want is to take care of her.

Holding her steadily against me, I swat her again, feel her jerk against me. She's tense for a long moment, and I can feel the cry swelling in chest.

"Let it out, baby." I murmur to her.

I'd ordered her not to speak for the majority of the encounter, but the lesson has already been taught, and my ears are thirsty now for her voice. She's coming close to unwinding in my hands, and I'd only be blessed to bear witness.

I can hear her breathing heavily, a moan beginning to thread into each exhale though I know she won't burst out with emotion immediately. I need to lead her there.

Shifting my weight, I bring my knee up beneath her hips where the support of the chair is lacking, and I feel her belly quiver against me. I draw my forearm across her back with enough pressure hold her still through the ensuing minutes.

It's almost over, and the tethers of my self control are thin and tenuous. With my pussy throbbing with orgasmic intensity I am aching for the time of punishment to reach its end and for the time of pleasure to begin. I can feel that she's just as needy by the sound of her whispers, the shudders racking her whole body, the beautiful, flushed display between her legs.

Flexing my fingers around the paddle, I line it up against her ass again, signaling the commencement of the final leg of the punishment. She tenses beneath me, clenching the rungs of the chair so hard that she elicits a groan from the wood.

 _Hold on, baby._ I think, my stomach aching with pure arousal as I pull back the paddle.

The crack of it meeting her flesh shatters the thundering of my heartbeat in my ears, and I feel her jerk against my leg. This time I don't hesitate.

She understands. I can feel her repentance seeping through the tears on cheeks and the sweat lining her spine. Her resistance is gone, washed away beneath a tide of contrition and forgiveness, and what anger I've held onto with scrabbling fingertips is drowning too. I eagerly let it be torn from me, and I feel like I'm being spread open wide for the deluge of warmth and love that our union has always brought me.

My body is shaking as I bring the paddle sharply across her backside, chasing the punishment towards it's fulfilling end. She rises and falls with me, her voice breaking through the air with beautiful, ragged intensity.

"Amanda, Amanda….Manda…." She's groaning and panting my name, and I've never heard her say it like this before.

She broken completely before me, and I see her now as she must see me; and in seeing her I see myself. The picture it paints before my face brings sharp tears to my eyes because I realize now that we could only ever find ourselves in each other's arms. There is no error so fatal or divide so deep that it could rip us apart. She is perfect in her imperfections, and I her complete counterpart.

Emotions seizes me, and I know I've lost count of the spankings, but I don't care anymore. The number is insignificant.

I toss the paddle to the ground, let it roll and clank against the floor. She's panting and whimpering beneath me as fold on top of her. I sink my face into her hair, wrapping my arms around her. She is soft and trembling, and I cannot stop the words from welling up in my throat.

"I love you, I love you, I love you…."

Her body lapses beneath me as she realizes the punishment is over. I can hear her drawing shaky breaths as she struggles to answer me.

"I...I…"

Her voice is small and husky, so different from her tone as dominant, but I don't let it dull my perception of her. She is strong, so strong.

"...love you…" She finally manages, causing an intense wave of pleasure and happiness to clench my chest.

I wrap my arms tighter around her, squeezing her warm flesh in my palms, my fingers seeking beneath the edges of her shirt. I feel her belly quiver as I slip my hand up to her chest. She's mercifully naked underneath, and I find the warm swell of breast with ease. She sucks in a sharp breath, and I feel her nipple tightening in my palm.

"Let me take you to the bed." I whisper in her ear, pressing kisses into her sweet-smelling hair.

I won't lie and say that aftercare is first on my mind, but I have just enough restraint left to attempt the proper comfort after such an intense round of discipline. She is always so careful and determined in her actions when she is my master, but as she trembles beneath me, I hear her give a whine of disagreement.

"'Manda…" She whispers, raspy and insistent. "T-take me...here…"

"Liv, I need to-" I begin.

" _Please._ " She cuts me off with a desperate tone, her head sinking down against the chair.

Interrupting her orders might've earned me another spanking, but as I stare down her lowered head and weak, quivering posture, I feel myself crumble. I don't care which I am to her - dominant or submissive - I just want to be hers and she mine.

My heart is slamming against my ribs as I slide away from her. Sinking back onto my heels, I let my hand, quaking with adrenaline, drift down to her ass. Her flesh is red and puffy, sensitive to my touch. I hear her breath in, quick and sudden, as I skim my palm over her buttock before grasping and spreading her open. She moans as I assert my other hand to her opposite cheek. She shifts, eagerly planting her knees apart to allow my eyes the viewing pleasure of her gushing, engorged pussy.

"Jesus, you're so beautiful." I whisper breathlessly, my own body clenching and throbbing with desire.

She groans in response, digging her head further into the crook of her arm as I draw out the simple torture of my gaze upon her swollen parts. I can almost see her flesh pulsing with fresh arousal and my insides seize in tandem. My mouth waters sharply, thirsty for the taste of her that awaits me at the well of her wetness. Tilting my lips to her intimate ones, I let my tongue explore her opening. The taste of her explodes across my sense and she goes taut beneath me, groaning aloud at the first touch. Her visceral reactions inspire me, and I press my tongue along her slit, tracing the soft entrance down to the taut bud of her clitoris

"Amanda…" She cries out, her voice near a sob as she reaches back to grab for me.

Her fingers catch my wrist, and I can feel each digit trembling and clenching hard enough to bruise me. I hope in the morning I find her fingerprints there, evidence of the way I pleasured her into madness.

Squeezing her buttocks tighter, I dip my tongue into her, shallowly breaching her quivering entrance, once then twice until she releases another sharp cry. Her body is quaking as though she'll break beneath me, but I don't let her go. Swirling my tongue down again, I seize her swollen clit, sucking it deep into my mouth. She rocks hard into the chair, and the legs creak against the floor above her ragged cries. I nearly lose my grasp on her, but with my heart raging in my chest, my arousal peaking at torturous heights, I drag her back with one intention - to make her come, long and hard.

Releasing the suction of my lips, I press my tongue directly to her clit, and scrub around the pulsing flesh. She cries out again, and this time, she arches back into my touch. Her hips twitch and grind in short, spastic motions as I keep the pressure hard and steady, forcing her towards orgasm.

I'm panting and breathless, my jaw aching and burning when I feel her going rigid beneath me. Ignoring the way my muscles are screaming, I circle my tongue hard against her clit as the final stages of the orgasm take hold of her.

Her whole body goes taut, and for a long moment she hardly even breathes before it all gives way. Then like a tidal wave, she's swept away, helplessly trembling and writhing to the tune of the orgasm.

Rising from behind her, I slide my hand between her legs, and taste her on my lips as I finish her. I watch her back ripple with pleasure, her hair tossed in shimmering, amber waves around her shoulders and head. To me, she is the perfect image of a lover,  _my_ lover.

I murmur soft encouragements as she slumps against the chair, wrecked and spent. Arousal is thick in my throat, surging through my veins as I watch the orgasm fade into a thrumming afterglow. My fingers massage her pussy slowly, nursing the last of the pleasure, and I shudder because she's so soft, so wet. She whimpers at my touch, squirming with sensitivity in the wake of the climax, but I gently prod her entrance. She draws a stiff breath, her fingers tightening around the rungs of the chair as I slowly work my two fingers into her. Her muscles are pliable and lax from the release, but she clenches as my digits sink deep into her.

"O-oh…." The halting exclamation leaves her lips on the note of a breathless whine, titillating my ears again.

I give her a slow, long thrust that's as gentle as it is torturous. I want her to feel every second of me inside of her, claiming her.

"Amanda, please…" She utters in a low groan, and it arouses me to hear her beg.

As my fingers draw back, then dip in again, she sinks back against me, seating herself on my fingers in a firm thrust that causes her to cry out and quiver.

"Jesus…." I whisper, almost inaudibly as the breath comes close to leaving my lungs.

The sight of her so needy for me blends red hot desire into my bursting veins, and I grab her hip, penetrating her again. She gasps, nearly collapsing as I find her the perfect spot inside her. She tightens around my fingers, but it only makes me want to spread her open wider. Panting with wild, uncontrollable desire, I draw back and press my third finger into her, urging her body to accept. At first, her passage cinches before she bears down upon my hand, moaning aloud as she takes in the width of my hand. Her fingers claw up the back of the chair, her broad shoulders and toned muscles flexing in delicious curves.

My body is burning from the inside out, stinging my every nerve ending at the image of her impaled on my hand. I am determined to drive over this edge to which she clings, to destroy her completely as she falls.

Clenching my fingers around her hip, I start a steady, deep rhythm, watching as she desperately rocks back into my hand, seeking the fulfillment that her body so ardently desires.

I wonder again at her perspective as I gain increasing pleasure from holding her climax in the palm of my hand, and I come to the conclusion that I would not have the strength to withstand this temptation of her laid out before me. I would be weak, folding to my desires to pin her down and fuck her into mindless oblivion at every turn. I do not have the discipline or patience to be so composed, and I realize that I don't want to. This is enough. Just having her here beneath me this one glorious time is more than I could have ever asked for.

I hear my own breathing come faster on top of her own raspy ones, and my hand moves faster. I can feel her gushing around my fingers, the evidence of her pleasure as she begins to meet my fingers with desperate thrusts of her hips. A wave of powerful arousal seizes me, and I groan out with her as she pierces herself again and again, hardly in need of my direction. I feel almost crazed by the image, watching my fingers fuck into her swollen, wet hole, and with a ragged moan, I hunch over her, wrapping my arm tight around her waist. She cries out as I bring her passionate thrusting to a halt, and seat my fingers deep into her. Her hips squirm in my embrace, but I cannot let her go. My fingers are tight around her, digging into soft warm flesh as pump into her, hard and fast with the single intention of breaking her upon my hand. A string of unintelligible exclamations leave her lips, and then she's writhing beneath me, choking over sobs as the second orgasm takes her, and shatters her before me.

I hold on to her shuddering frame, my face buried in her hair as I fuck her into the blissful aftermath. She collapses under me again, her hips finally sinking downwards, and I with her. My muscles are aching and burning with exertion, though my fingers are regretful to leave the hot alcove between her legs.

I lapse against her, and listen to our inhales and exhales wind together in a raspy melody until finally, her body releases my hand. She whimpers softly as I withdraw my fingers, soaked with her arousal.

"You're so good…." I murmur huskily in her ear, dipping my hand beneath her shirt.

I cannot help but reach higher as she trembles delicately. I hear her suck in a quick breath as my fingers reach her nipple again, drawing her own orgasmic juices across her pebbled flesh. I kiss her shoulder, so hungry for her despite the fresh fulfillment of her on my hand. After the tumult of the previous days, I feel starved for her, malnourished of her love.

She whimpers as my fingertips wetly tease her nipple, a shudder washing down her body. My breath is heavy in her ear, and the ache in my body is almost unbearable. I know I should hold her and comfort her now, but I can scarcely think beyond the curves and planes of her body beneath my dancing fingers.

"Amanda…" She breathes, creating shivers down my spine.

She tilts her head back against my shoulder and my mouth reaches for her neck. My lips close around the pulsing of her throat, and she arches in my embrace, a low moan rising from her lips. She reaches up suddenly and grabs my hand from her breast, dragging it downwards to the soft hair curling at the junction of her thighs. Hot desire seizes me as she pairs our fingers against her engorged clit, and I feel her arousal all over again. I can see down the front of her body to where our intertwined hands have begun to glide between her legs, and the sight is almost more than I can take.

"Oh, god…" I whisper, my mouth failing against her throat. "Liv… Jesus… I…."

She interrupts my halting whispers with a trembling moan, her hips arching up against my hand. She presses the pads of my fingers hard against her throbbing, slick clit, and I clench my eyes shut, scrubbing hard. Then I feel her lunge against me, and she comes again. I can hardly breathe as she bucks in pleasure, and the ache at the center of my body tightens down further as though an imaginary hand were touching me there. I can feel the spasms rippling through my clitoris, deep into my body, and I begin to gasp, grappling at her body as I flail at the edge of orgasm.

"Liv...Liv…" I cry out breathlessly, desperately pleading for her to do something,  _anything._ "God, I'm gonna…."

"'Manda…" I hear her panting, then the chair creaking as she shoves it away.

My vision is bursting as she turns towards me and my wide, helpless gaze meets her dark, desirous one.

"Come here, baby." She whispers, and my muscles go slack.

I collapse back onto the floor, splayed out and weak, the ceiling spinning over head. I feel her between my legs, fingers tearing at my pants. She takes them down in one quick yank, and my heart slams up against my ribs, sheer anticipation taking what air is left in my lungs.

"Oh, god, oh, god…" My voice is but a whimper in my ears

My hands fly to my face as she takes my leg and spreads me open. Then her fingers are touching me, for the first time in so many, long, agonizing days, splitting me open to the invasion of her inside me.

t I can hardly stand the feeling of her touching me and yet at the same time it is not enough.

Her fingers circle entrance, coaxing me open before they slide into me suddenly and completely. I gasp sharply, my hips jarring upwards.

"Jesus... _fuck…_ " I sob into my hands as I try to process the feeling of her fingers stretching me open and pressing deep into the most tender parts of me.

I hardly manage to comprehend even an iota before she's curling her fingers into my g-spot and thrusting deliberately. She barely rocks into me twice before the pleasure comes so fast and hard that for a moment I can't even scream. Then it grows white hot inside me, racing across my nerve endings with fiery domination, leaving nothing untouched. My vision blacks out before bursting with color and I hear myself sobbing, feel my body writhing helplessly to the touch of her hand.

For a long minute I hardly feel like a person with flesh and blood boundaries, but rather an entity of endless pleasure, transcending beyond the physical experience and into something holy. When I finally begin to float back to earth, I am dazed, my flesh embodiment throbbing and sizzling in the wake of the climax.

My gaze opens up to my apartment ceiling, and she bent down against me, her forehead pressed to my stomach. She kisses my belly, slowly and deliberately, causing butterflies to bloom within. Her fingers are still inside me and I bite down on my lower as the feeling of them resting there creates fresh spasms of desire.

"Liv…" I whisper, my fingers curling slowly into her hair as I clench my eyes shut.

My hips flex down against her hand, and I breathe out a trembling sigh as she gives me a slow thrust. Her mouth drags wetly down my stomach towards my groin, and I draw my legs up wider, a silent invitation for her to fall between them. With her fingers pumping shallowly into my pussy, she breathes a hot exhale over my throbbing clit. It's a slow torturous foreplay that leaves me dangling on the edge, wanting desperately to beg for more, but also masochistically enjoying the exquisite pleasure.

Sliding down onto her stomach, she cradles my leg over one shoulder and inclines her mouth to the core of my aching being.

"Oh…." I choke out, clenching her hair harder as she fingers me and sucks down on my clitoris in tandem.

For the second time I don't know how I will last for more than a minute. The pleasure is already seizing deep inside me, pleading with my body to follow.

Claiming her head in both my hands, I arch into her, roughly directing her mouth in heedance of my desires.

Had it been any other night I wouldn't dare to be so demanding with her, but for now I discard my hesitance. She is mine, and with her knelt before me, I understand her worship as means it to be - a final act of submission.

With her lips and tongue, she serves me, and when my eyes roll back, the sky furls open above me in all it's cosmic glory. What I feel could only be described as heavenly, and she my angel guiding me towards paradise. My whole being explodes, and she cradles me tight, transporting me past our earthly existence and into a plane of otherworldly pleasure. There we exist together as I one, and I forget everything.

The bitter taste of resentment is washed from the back of my throat with the sweetness of redemption. The past fades away from me, and our week of torment drifts into a distant memory. I've forgiven her.


End file.
